


The Island

by LikeMeReckless



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Core Four, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:40:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 57,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28834290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LikeMeReckless/pseuds/LikeMeReckless
Summary: When Hiram Lodge offers Veronica, her fiancé, Archie, and friends, Betty and Jughead, a once in a lifetime getaway, it almost seems too good to be true. With the stress of planning a wedding, and the frustrating pining between her best friends, Veronica feels this trip will be exactly what they need to relax and come clean about their feelings, once and for all. But as in all things, if it seems too good to be true, it usually is. When disaster strikes they are faced with a stark reality: Can they survive the storm that is coming and make in through life on The Island?
Relationships: Archie Andrews/Veronica Lodge, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 199
Kudos: 109





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go on another adventure with our fave fictional crew! I was actually in the middle of another story or two when this popped in my head and demanded to be written- so here it is! I always appreciate hearing your thoughts as you read! You can find me on Tumblr @likemereckless for updates.
> 
> Many thanks for Jandy for her edits and support... and listening to my crazy ideas!

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/192454274@N08/51010198772/in/album-72157718550812672/)

God has mercifully ordered that the human brain works slowly; first the blow, hours afterwards the bruise.

Walter de la Mare, The Return

**  
The Pembrooke**

**Hiram Lodge’s Study**

**December 26th**

Hiram Lodge sat behind his mahogany desk, a glass of Lodge Rum at his side and a cigar in his other hand. As he perused the legal documents on the blotter before him, he smiled and bit the Cohiba Behike between his teeth, relishing in the limited edition stogie and the way the smoke slipped between his lips as he exhaled. If his overseas associate, Elias Muller, had expected Hiram to show up and sign papers without scouring the legal jargon with a fine-toothed comb first, he was as bad a criminal as he was a friend. In just a few moments he had been scanning he had found three possible back-door clauses and hints at a secret, alternative agenda. 

His flight to Genève Aéroport left the following afternoon. His private jet was being fueled in the morning and loaded with all of the luxury items he preferred to have on a long flight. Furrowing his brow, he folded up the papers and placed them back in their envelope before placing that into the brown-leather folio within his top drawer. With a final puff of his cigar, he placed it on his ashtray so that the bit left would burn itself out, not a fan of the stale stench it produced when extinguished forcefully. From his jacket’s breast-pocket he took out his phone and dialed his colleague.

“Elias,” Hiram said curtly.

“Hiram Lodge,” Elias responded, seemingly unsurprised to be hearing from him. “It’s nice to hear from you. To what do I owe the pleasure before our meeting?”

“Yes, it’s good to hear your voice as well, old friend,” Hiram agreed. “Listen, I was reading over the documents you sent regarding our future business dealings and they seem a bit... vague. Perhaps a little too open.”

Hiram paused as he listened to silence on the other end of the line. “Exactly what are you suggesting, old _friend?”_ Elias asked hesitantly.

“ _I’m_ not accusing you of anything, _friend_ ,” Hiram replied. “I just think that there are a few items that we need to shine a bit more clarity on in regards to our business plan. The legal red-tape regarding our imports to Saudi Arabia needs to be iron-proof or we’ll find ourselves in very hot water.”

He could hear Elias sigh through the phone line. “Yes, forgive me, friend. This whole plan has me a bit on edge. An operation of this size has never before been attempted and there’s the potential for many of our men to face execution.”

“I understand,” Hiram concurred. “Hence why I find it prudent to our situation to take one final deep-dive into these papers with _both_ of our lawyers present.”

Elias scoffed and huffed, frustrated clearly by his tone. “You dishonor me with your subtle accusations, Hiram. Out of the pair of us, you have higher stakes and hold more power in this operation as it is.”

“And so I have more to lose,” Hiram retorted, smiling when he knew Elias had no witty words to return on the matter. Hiram knew he was right.

“In two days’ time, I will meet with _you_ , Hiram,” Elias confirmed. “If you bring an outside lawyer into this, consider me disaffiliated from you. I doubt you will be able to find another to take on such a perilous trade.”

Hiram chuckled and picked up his drink, taking a sip and leaning back in the brown leather chair. “Very well. Take care, Elias.”

“And you, Hiram. I will have a car at Genève awaiting your arrival.”

A dial tone swiftly followed before he ended the call and placed the phone down on his desk, considering his options. The harsh clack of heels and a heavy-sigh drew his eyes to the cracked door between his study and the sitting room.

“Mija?” Hiram called out, grinning widely as Veronica’s frame popped into view. “I didn’t know you were in town from the city today. It fills my heart to see you. What brings you by?”

“Hi, Daddy,” Veronica spoke softly, offering him a tired smile. “Mom dragged me and Betty in today over wedding plans. I swear, Archie and I _just_ got engaged last month. You’d think we’d been engaged for years by the way she talks.”

“Ah, Betty.” Hiram nodded. “And how is your roommate? Still sadly pining over your betrothed’s best friend?”

Veronica’s eyes widened and she burst out a short laugh. “How did you-”

“Your engagement brunch,” he explained. “They could barely keep their eyes off each other but even the slightest shoulder bump and they acted as if they’d been scorched.”

Veronica nodded, quite exaggeratedly. She was growing tired of their quiet pining herself. If even her father could see they were infatuated with one another, why couldn’t _they_ figure it out? 

She and Betty had been friends since high school. When they both got into Columbia University, it was a dream come true. They had met Archie and Jughead, also longtime friends and now roommates, at orientation and had hit it off right away. 

Veronica and Archie had been hot and heavy on the down-low for months when, during a movie night, Betty had finally groaned and told them just to head to the bedroom. Their sexual tension and sneaking around was driving her nuts. 

If Betty had thought Veronicaand Archie were awful back then, she had no idea about her own sexual tension with Archie’s beanie-clad bestie. Veronica had now put up with eight years of ‘work-driven Betty’ and ‘self-deprecating Jughead’ tip-toeing past their feelings like tightrope walkers. Heaven-forbid if she brought up the topic.

“Anyway, Mom dragged us in to look at color swatches so she could start creating a theme. Between the fashion show last weekend, Mom’s incessant nagging to start planning this wedding, and the influx of paperwork since Archiekins expanded Andrews Construction, I’m completely exhausted.”

A slow grin spread across Hiram’s face. If he could label himself as anything, the word opportunist would come to mind. And here he saw an opportunity. In his life, there were two things he would not stand for; deceit and subterfuge in his business and seeing his precious daughter worn down. Perhaps in dealing with one of those issues, he could also correct the other.

“You know, Mija,” Hiram began. “I was _supposed_ to be leaving for Switzerland tomorrow for eight days to deal with some business. However, as of this evening, my business may be… moving in another direction. The hotel suite has two bedrooms already and the jet is set to go. Perhaps you and Archie could use some skiing and relaxation and just maybe the romantic Swiss atmosphere will help your friends to open their eyes as well.”

“Are you serious?” Veronica gushed, clapping her hands up in front of her chin. “Ten days in the Swiss Alps with my bestie, the love of my life, and the platonic love of his life?”

“...When you put it like that…” Hiram grimaced, choking a bit on his drink as veronica plowed into him, throwing her arms around his neck.

“Thank you, Daddy! Thank you! Thank you!” Veronica exclaimed, still hugging him as Betty appeared in the doorway.

“That’s some thank you, V,” Betty teased, leaning against the door jamb and crossing her arms over her chest. “Apparently, _you_ got a nice surprise while _I_ got a twenty-minute lecture from your mom on the importance of waxing my eyebrows regularly.”

Veronica bounced over to Betty and gripped her shoulders tightly. “This surprise is for you too, Bettykins! Daddy is sending us on an all-expenses-paid trip to Switzerland for eight days! We can ring in the new year in luxury!”

Betty’s eyes lit up at the thought of it. She had always dreamed of traveling across Europe, but her ambitions had always gotten the best of her and she put her work life before her own happiness. “Us? What about your fiance?”

“He’s invited, too. It will be so much fun- just the four of us!”

“The four of us?” Betty repeated curiously. “Who-”

“Well,” Veronica said, holding up a finger each time she added a name. “There’s you, me, Archiekins and... Jughead.”

“Jughead,” Betty repeated.

“Yes, Jughead,” Veronica confirmed, a slight smirk on her lips though she tried to suppress it. “Why? Is that a problem?”

Betty pursed out her lips and shook her head slowly. “N-no. No, of course not. Just… do you really think he’d come? He hasn’t left the city since… well ever.”

Veronica allowed a slow, wicked grin to spread across her face. “Somehow I think our darling Forsythe won’t miss this one.”

…..

**Andrews Apartment**

**Upper West Side**

  
  


Veronica keyed her way into their apartment, Betty right behind her, and tossed her keys into the bowl on the side table along with her sunglasses case. Archie had a habit of losing his keys on the regular. She had come home one day to find him about to install a key hook into her freshly painted wall. This bowl became the compromise.

“Boys,” she greeted, clacking her way through the foyer as Betty hung up her jacket in the entryway closet. When she received no answer, she delved deeper into their home, only to find her twenty-six-year-old fiance engaged in a Smash Brothers battle with his best friend.

“Take that, Kirby!” Jughead spat as his Mario blasted out a fireball, defeating his opponent.

“No fair, dude,” Archie groaned. “You beat me like twelve times today.”

Jughead tossed the controller onto the coffee table and sipped his beer, shrugging smugly at Archie’s defeat. “Well, maybe don’t play as Kirby every time.”

“You’re always Mario!” Archie exclaimed. “I know you both have the chronic hat obsession thing going on, but if you can always be Mario, why can’t I always be Kirby?”

Jughead looked at Archie as if he were a giant cuttlefish seated on the sofa and not his best friend. “Because I always win.”

“Boys, boys, boys,” Veronica sighed, stomping into the living room and standing before them. “Don’t make me take your toys away.”

Archie jumped up instantaneously and grabbed his fiance for a hug and a kiss, welcoming her home as Jughead lay back against the sofa, letting his head hang over the back. 

“Glad to see me, Jughead?” Veronica teased. “No big hug and kiss you’d like to share?”

“Not with you,” he said flatly, smirking at his own retort.

“Betty’s here, too,” Veronica said sweetly. “Maybe she’ll take one for the team and you can give one to Betty.”

“Give me what?” Betty asked skeptically as she joined them in the living room. At her voice Jughead snapped his head forward and turned around, waiting for Veronica to explain what they had been discussing. When she declined and Betty stood there expectantly, he jumped in.

“An ass-kicking in Smash Brothers,” Jughead said, figuring with the game open it was a plausible explanation. 

Betty scoffed and sat down on the couch next to him. “You? Kick my ass? You beat me twice in eight years, Jug. I’d say if someone is looking to get their ass kicked it’s you.”

Archie’s face lit up in excitement. “Who do you play as, Betty? I want to defeat this fool next time.”

“Kirby,” Betty said with a shake of her head as if it would be obvious. “He’s just the cutest.”

Archie’s mouth flopped like a fish for a moment as Jughead tried hard not to laugh at him. Betty looked only further confused and Veronica quite impatient.

Veronica perched on the arm of a chair and cleared her throat. “If you violent, fully-grown children are done discussing who can lay the smackdown on each other’s asses, and I don’t mean in the fun way, I have some exciting news to share.”

Betty, knowing the surprise, turned happily to her friend, while Jughead’s eyes may have drifted to Betty’s ass before rapidly catching himself. He blushed a bit at the knowing wink Veronica tossed his way but pointedly ignored it.

“We have all been very busy as of late,” Veronica began. “Being a successful young adult is no joke. We have become those people that are all work and no play and I’m not here for it. The conveyor belt that is life does not give us a moment’s pause for enjoyment.”

“Thank you, Veronica,” Jughead snarked. “Should I get the soapbox from the closet and place it on the sidewalk for you to continue your rant more publicly?”

Veronica clucked her tongue and tossed out her arms. “So much mouth-sass coming from the man who spent a full forty-five minutes complaining about how impossible it is to read in a well-lit room when a book is printed with glossed pages.”

“It’s flashy and unnecessary!” Jughead snapped back. “The reflection is so unpleasant on the eye and it blurs out some of the words!”

Betty giggled and stepped up beside him, placing a palm on his shoulder. “And don’t even get him started on how hard it is to find a pen or highlighter that doesn’t smear on that type of paper.”

“Even you, Betts?” Jughead groaned as if wounded, placing a hand to his chest. “I thought you of all people would appreciate such a serious publishing blunder.”

Betty had the decency to look apologetic for a moment, though she was more excited to get on with the big reveal. “Surprise, Juggie! Focus! You can old-man rant about lustrous pages later.”

Veronica looked pleased when Betty redirected the attention back at her and she cleared her throat again.

“As I was saying, we are all very busy and very stressed and I think it would be nice for us to spend some time together,” Veronica explained quite matter-of-factly. “As it were, Daddy was supposed to be going to the Swiss Alps on business this week. He had eight days booked in a luxurious resort. However, his business plans have fallen through and he can’t cancel his reservations... which leaves _us_ to fill his vacancy.”

“What are you trying to say, Ronnie?” Archie asked, though from the look on his face she was pretty sure he knew exactly what she meant, but he needed confirmation it was truly real.

“Well, Archiekins, what I am trying to say is go pack your bags because we’re going on an all-expenses-paid trip to Switzerland!”

Archie looked blank for a moment before the realization dawned on him and a huge grin spread across his face. “This is awesome! You know how much chocolate they have in Switzerland, right?’

“We have a lot of chocolate at the grocery store here, Arch,” Jughead quipped. “You don’t have to travel seven-thousand miles to buy chocolate. I think there might be a little bit more to offer in Switzerland than cocoa delights.”

Veronica, always one to defend her future husband’s boyish enthusiasm, stared him down. “And what do you plan on doing there, Jones? Brooding, writing, and sitting indoors?”

“What do you mean, what do I plan on doing there? I was assuming this was a getaway for you and your beloved?”

“No…” Veronica huffed, getting annoyed that her good news wasn’t translating into enough excitement. “This is a getaway for me, my beloved Betty, my fiancé, and his beloved, you.”

Jughead was quiet for a moment as he looked between Veronica, Archie, and Betty before he spoke. “I’m not sure that I can go, Veronica. I mean it’s very short notice and I do have work.”

“Seriously, Jug?” Betty cried, sounding a bit disappointed. “You can write from anywhere and your other boss is _literally_ standing in the living room right now. Do you really think Archie would stop you from going to Switzerland with all of us?”

Since Andrews Construction had expanded and taken off in New York City, Jughead had worked as a foreman, leading up some of their biggest projects. It paid well, it kept him fit, and allotted him plenty of time to write his next novel. Moreso, Archie could trust him on high-profile jobs.

“Yeah, bro,” Archie agreed. “I would never take this away from you. I can get someone else to cover as a foreman on the project. I mean think about it… eight days in the Swiss Alps it might be good for your writer’s block... new places, a new perspective, new scenery…”

Jughead sat back against the couch heavily. He could picture what eight days in the Alps would look like with his best friends. Veronica and Archie would run off as always and he would be left in a romantic lodge with Betty, suppressing his feelings for the remainder of the trip.

“I don’t know, Arch. I mean, this is a big, high-profile building we’re creating here,” Jughead reasoned. “I know all the blueprints. I know all the plans. I know all the legalities. Are you sure you want to leave someone else in charge of that?”

Archie shot his friend a look that told him to let it go. It was obvious he was looking for reasons to get out of the trip and Betty looked a bit crest-fallen. Archie wouldn’t allow that. “Look Jug, I’ll have Reggie cover. He might not always be the brightest bulb, but he’s never steered us wrong and he’s always been a good man on our crew. Come on. You can’t miss this.”

Jughead drew his eyes from Archie, passed Veronica, and over to Betty. The hopeful look on her face filled his heart up unbelievably fast. She looked so excited and he knew right then and there, at that moment, that he could never disappoint her.

“When do we leave?” he sighed as Betty bounced and clapped and Veronica grinned.

“Bright and early tomorrow morning. You and B better head home and pack your bags!” Veronica squealed, hopping off the arm of the chair to squeeze at Betty in delight. “You need formal dinner wear, swimwear, skiwear, casual clothes, B, some lingerie, boots…”

“Lingerie?” Betty asked skeptically. “I think it might be too cold to ski in that.”

“This is a five-star resort, Betty. I can’t have you cavorting around our suite in kitten flannels. Pack nice things or I’ll pack for you.”

After another ten minutes of Veronica listing their packing needs, they all parted ways, Betty heading home to _definitely_ pack her cat flannels.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/192454274@N08/51010198772/in/album-72157718550812672/)

> There are edges around the black and every now and then a flash of color streaks out of the gray. But I can never really grasp any of the slivers of memories that emerge.

Katie McGarry, Pushing the Limits

**New York City**

  
As promised, a car picked Betty and Jughead up at eleven-thirty the next morning. They lived in the same building, so it was a quick and easy pickup. When Veronica and Archie had decided to move in together, Betty could no longer afford the building she and Ronnie lived in together. When Archie suggested she try his old building, she happily agreed, feeling comfortable knowing Jughead would be around in case of an emergency.

Every Tuesday night and Sunday morning the pair did laundry together because Betty was nervous about using the shady basement facilities alone. She repaid his kindness with Tuesday night dinners and Sunday brunches. He had told her many times she didn’t need to bribe him, that he also had dirty clothes, but Betty knew he wouldn’t do laundry nearly as often if it weren’t for her worry.

“I’m so excited!” Veronica squealed as they piled into the car while the driver loaded their bags. “This is an actual fantasy of mine.”

“You’ve dreamed of us all going to Switzerland?” Jughead said oddly, giving Veronica a crazy look.

“I’ve dreamed of my sometimes annoying,” she said, staring directly at Jughead. “-but always chosen family spending extended quality time together with no distractions from the outside world. We can just relax, try new experiences together, get closer…”

“Well we appreciate you, V,” Betty said sweetly. “I think this is exactly what I needed. I’ve been so stressed lately that I swear my neck muscles will never un-tense and my optic nerve may be permanently squished in there.”

Veronica pouted and tapped Betty on the knee, giving her the patented Lodge, ‘I got you girl,’ look. “Aw Bettykins, not to worry. When we get there I will book you a massage with a handsome, hulking, muscled masseuse named Hans with magical fingers.”

As Betty laughed and began to rustle through her purse for something, Veronica leaned over to Jughead to whisper, “Unless someone else wants to take care of that first,” earning herself a dirty look.

After dodging city traffic and making small talk, they arrived at the airstrip where the Lodge jet was fueled up and prepared for takeoff. Their driver loaded the bags onto the plane as they all followed Veronica across the runway where the pilot was waiting.

“You are not Patrick,” Veronica said quizically to the pilot with his hand outstretched in greeting. Hesitantly, she took his hand and looked him over. “Who might you be?”

“I’m Johan, ma’am. I’m filling in for Patrick while he is on holiday with his family. I have twenty-years of flying experience under my belt, seven of those with the military. You are in good hands, Miss Lodge. Is your father not joining you today?”

“No doubt you are fantastic,” Veronica agreed. “Daddy always vets his employees quite thoroughly. And no, he’s not. Did he not tell you? He is unable to travel and sent us in his place.”

“Very good, Miss Lodge,” Johan nodded, tipping his hat. “Why don’t you head in and get comfortable? Take off is in twenty minutes.”

The interior of the plane was as luxurious as expected from Hiram Lodge. At the entrance just past the doors were four, creamy leather seats, all enhanced with blankets and throw pillows for comfort. Beyond that, both sides of the lounge were lined with similarly colored leather sofas, stretching to the back where the bar was located. A back cabin lay beyond there, which Veronica explained was a bedroom.

“Well, Veronica,” Jughead chuckled awkwardly. “This isn’t bougie at all.”

Betty slapped at his chest and shot him a warning look. “Be nice, Jug. It was generous of Mr. Lodge to let us use their plane.”

“I didn’t mean-” Jughead stammered. “I just thought. I’m nervous. I’ve never even flown coach before let alone in something so… expensive.”

Veronica spun on the spot and stared at him open-mouthed. “Jughead Jones, are we popping your aero-cherry?”

“That is wrong and gross on so many levels, but in essence, yes, unless you count that time in middle school where this kid Chuck threw me over a cafeteria table. This is my first time on a plane.” Jughead swallowed hard and it was only then Betty noticed how clammy and jittery he was.

Betty grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight between her own, letting her other hand rub up his arm. “I can imagine you’re a little nervous. Don’t be, Juggie. The odds of dying in a plane crash are only one in roughly ninety-six-thousand whereas dying in a car crash is one in one-hundred-twelve.”

“I drive a motorcycle,” Jughead said, feeling even more uncomfortable after Betty’s carefully delivered statistics.

“You’re thirty-five times more likely to die on a motorcycle than a car, so the plane is the least of your worries, Juggie. Don’t worry, I’ll talk you through it all. I’m at your service.”

“I feel like a bad host,” Veronica frowned. “Do you want a Xanax to calm down? Valium? Diazepam?”

Jughead raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “I think I’ll stick with Betty’s service offer. Besides, we all know thirty minutes after takeoff you and Archiekins will be in the back servicing each other.”

Archie had the good manners to look appalled as Betty tossed her head back and laughed to Jughead’s delight. Veronica pursed her lips and tilted her head in concession. “He speaks the truth,” she agreed.

As the pilot closed the plane door and entered the cockpit, they reconvened on the couches where Veronica poured glasses of champagne to kick off their vacation.

“To relaxation and rejuvenation!”

“Cheers!” they echoed, clinking the glasses and downing their bubbly.

…..

“What is it, Johan?” the angry voice snapped through the other end of the phone. “Have you lost your nerve already?”

“No, sir,” Johan replied, swallowing hard. “Forgive my intrusion but there is but a glitch in the plan. Hiram Lodge isn’t here.”

A long, uncomfortable silence sat between the two callers, filling up the airwaves with a quiet hum.

“What do you mean Hiram isn’t there?” the man spat back.

“His daughter, Veronica, showed up with her fiancé and two friends, sir. She said her father’s plans changed. What course of action will you have me take? Fly to Genève?”

Johan’s boss scratched at his whiskers as he thought things through. Business was ruthless, thus, to prove a point, he needed to be ruthless.

“No change in course, Johan,” he commanded firmly.

“But sir-”

“No change in course!” he repeated, raising his voice even louder. “We follow through with the original plan. If this doesn’t teach Hiram a lesson, I don’t know what will.”

Johan swallowed heavily, a golf-ball-sized wad of anxiety building up in his throat. “Very well, sir. I’ll see you at my rendezvous.”

“Don’t fail me, Johan. Or you’ll wind up as cold as the revenge I’m about to exact on Mr. Lodge.”

…..

When the plane was coasting at their cruising altitude, Johan emerged from the cockpit for a moment. His appearance threw Jughead for a loop and he grabbed at his chest, jumping up to pout at the cockpit door.

“If you’re here, who is flying this plane?” he exclaimed in a panic.

“Relax, sir,” Johan smiled. “I have a co-pilot, of course. I have merely come to pour you the traditional take-off drink of Mr. Lodge as a courtesy.”

“Oh, Johan, you don’t have to-” Veronica began, Johan waving her off and interrupting.

“Nonsense,” he said with a shush. “It’s the… least I can do. And a tradition. For… safe travel.”

“Well if it’s tradition,” Archie reasoned. “And for safe travel, how can we refuse.”

“That is the spirit!” Johan said in triumph as he began mixing and pouring behind the bar, emerging a few minutes later with four drinks on the tray.

Placing the tray down before them, Jughead thought he looked rather nervous and shifty to be in charge of the plane, but perhaps, like him, it was just this requisite social interaction he was unnerved by. He had flown for years, so he decided to give him the benefit of doubt.

“To… your good health,” Johan said with a nod before excisions himself to head back to his post. As he reached the door Jughead thought he heard him mutter something, but the melodious sound of Betty’s laughter won his ear’s attention instead.

“Drink up, young ones. For in this you will feel no pain. God bless and God help you all.”

…..

Betty woke up with her joints stiff and her head pounding, a pathway of drool dripping its way down her cheek on the gray fabric below. The fabric was warm and attached to a human. Not just any human, Jughead. When did they fall asleep? Why was she atop him on the couch when there were perfectly comfortable recliners on the plane. Groggily, she checked her watch. It was eleven-thirty pm, eastern standard time, which meant it should be sunrise in Switzerland, but outside it was dark. Tapping at her watch, she was sure it hadn’t stopped.

Betty thought back to her last waking memories. They had finished the cocktails Johan had concocted and spent another half-an-hour debating over excursions and tours from the portfolio Veronica had arranged. When they began talking about lavish romantic dinners, thermal springs, and fireside lounging on their private outdoor deck, Veronica and Archie had stopped pretending they weren’t making eyes at each other and she had dragged him back to the plane’s bedroom.

After, she sat awkwardly alone with one-fourth of her best friend group. Their time alone wasn’t something she normally would cite as awkward, but the cabin walls weren’t exactly thick and Veronica and Archie had quite a set of lungs between them.

They began to discuss what they had been reading, teasing each other over their genres of guilt, his young-adult dystopian novels, and hers being what Jughead called trash-mance.

“So, have you found another series you loved as much as that stupid dragon one you couldn’t stop ranting about?”

“It was not stupid, Betts,” Jughead said adamantly. “It was a completely genius masterpiece. The fantasy settings weren’t copied or modeled off any other book of its type, which is rare nowadays.”

Betty just laughed as he stared her down, jaw hanging agape at her laughter, mocking him.

“And what about you?” he countered, lifting a bottle of water to his lips. “If I recall the recent additions to your bookshelf all began with the word ‘bared’. You might as well just download porn.”

“Mmm, but porn comes with faces, Jug,” she replied. “We girls like to put our own faces on the male leads.” 

At her reply Jughead began to choke on his water, pounding on his own chest as he tried to catch his breath, Betty laughing all the while.

That was hours ago and the last thing Betty could recall with any real clarity.

With her limbs aching, Betty rubbed at her neck and turned to her side, peering out the window, seeing nothing but black below. They weren’t as high as earlier as she could see waves. Were they making their descent? 

“Jug,” Betty said tapping lightly on his chest, sighing at his groan in response. “Juggle!” Betty said louder, shaking at his shoulders.

“Ouch, woman,” he groaned, rubbing at his shoulder before rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Are we almost there? And why do I feel like I did on my twenty-first birthday?”

“Something feels off, Juggie,” Betty panted out nervously. She had always struggled with anxiety, the churning in her gut and burning in her throat mounting seemingly out of nowhere. Usually, it was unnecessary and little things, like forgetting to call her mother one day or paying a bill a day overdue. This felt different though. Her skin prickled and her senses hummed.

“Hey, hey breath with me,” Jughead cooed softly, grabbing her hands. “What do you need?”

“Maybe,” she squealed out. “Maybe just wake Ronnie? I’m probably just anxious about landing. I hate landings.”

“I think I might hate them, too,” he teased, tucking her further under his arm. “I don’t want to leave you. Sorry, this will be loud… Arch!” he yelled. “Veronica! Archie!”

“We hear you. You don’t need to use a megaphone to talk to us!” Archie whined as they both emerged from the bedroom, Archie’s annoyance fading into worry when he saw the state of his friends.

“What happened?” Archie asked, darting over and kneeling beside Betty. “Is she alright?”

“V,” Betty said warily. “Something feels odd. It’s been eleven hours and it should be sunrise in Switzerland. We should be almost there by now, or at least over land.”

Veronica glanced at her watch and frowned, glancing out the cabin windows as well.

“I’ll go check with Johan,” Veronica announced. “I’m sure we just had to veer around a storm or wait out a back-up on the landing strip. No need to panic.”

At her declaration, a single shot filled the silent air. If they weren’t above ground-level, they would have paid no mind; a car back-firing or firecracker perhaps. But while airborne the sound was more menacing. Only seconds later the plane jolted, tipping towards its left side as it began to rapidly descend towards the sea. 

The whir from the now, flaming left wing and engine almost drowned out their screams as they were each tossed around the cabin, flung into windows, and up against the bar. Veronica had been jolted backward and her head met the bar top with a heavy ‘thunk’, knocking her unconscious at once.

Though they were tossed forward and pressed up against the seats in front of them, Jughead had managed to hold onto Betty, terrified himself, but still clutching her to his chest.

“Oh, God,” she cried against his t-shirt. “What do we do? I-I wasn’t prepared for this. What do we do?”

Archie had managed to pry himself off the windows and using the cabin wall for leverage, pulled himself up towards the cockpit.

“I’m going to check the pilot!” Archie yelled over the loud, crunching sounds, the smell of smoke now inundating their nostrils.

Jughead nodded to him as Betty began to look around frantically for the emergency exit. “We need to be ready, Jug. If they can’t stop this we need to know our best chance for survival.”

“What will an exit do if the plane is in pieces?” Jughead choked back nervously. 

“If we land in the ocean the plane will begin to fill with water,” Betty stammered out, trying to calm her breathing. “We need to be able to evacuate quickly. We won’t have time to look up the exit routes.”

He was staring at her blankly. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. He had never flown before. This was his first flight. Betty could sense his panic and she slid her palms along each side of his jaw.

“Stay with me, Jug,” Betty begged, searching for his eyes. He forced his eyes to drag up to her own.

“One in ninety-thousand, huh Betts?” he teased, assuaging his fears with humor just as Archie reached the cockpit door.

“It’s empty!” Archie screamed out in a panic. “There’s no one in here!”

“Why do you mean there’s no one in there?” Jughead yelled back. “There’s nowhere else to go! No coffee shop or cigar lounge. We’re in a fucking airplane!”

The reality of their situation seemed to hit them all at once. The plane would crash. Betty was the first to react, pushing her way upright quickly. 

“Archie, haven’t you flown with your uncle a few times? Didn’t he teach you some basics?”

“Well, yeah… just in a small plane though. And not under duress. I’ve never landed a plane that was barreling towards the ocean! I’ve never even landed one regularly!”

“Well today you are going to! You have more experience than any of us. Get buckled in and give it a try. Jug and I will secure Ronnie. And brace by the exits. Arch, you’re our best hope.”

Archie, breathing heavily, his eyes wide with the responsibility that had just fallen on his shoulders, nodded roughly before turning and making his way inside. Betty mobilized immediately after, grabbing Jughead’s hand and tugging him towards the back, using the wall to help combat the force tugging them forward.

“How fast do you think we are going?” Jughead breathed out erratically. “Like, a thousand miles?”

“I’d say two-fifty,” Betty answered as they reached Veronica who still lay unconscious. “A normal landing is at about one-hundred-fifty miles per hour and we weren’t that high up. Our descent is on a descent angle as well. The speed will be less if Archie can slow us down and angle the landing.”

As they grabbed Veronica under her arms, they hurled her into one of the chairs, securing her belt before securing their own at the two seats near the exit doors. The plane began to jostle more, up and down, back and forth. Whatever Archie was doing was hopefully slowing their impact.

“The lights are still on,” Betty said softly, as though that should mean something to him.

“And that’s good?” Jughead asked, nervously bouncing his knee up and down.

“It means the hydraulics are working at least. It means we haven’t lost power.”

“We’re getting close guys!” Archie screamed. “I can’t- I can’t level us out! I’m pulling up but it’s only helping slightly! Hold on!”

Time seemed to pause and sound seemed to cease as the rubber of the wheel burned across the ground. Betty catalogued that this at least meant they hit land before the crunching and tearing of metal screamed through the night, overpowering the screams of the occupants. Betty gripped at Jughead’s hand and buried her face in his shoulder as he ducked his own down toward his knees. 

The left wing slammed into the ground, breaking off and sending the plane forward onto its nose, spinning and flipping across the ground. A jet of fire blasted through from the back as the bedroom area broke apart from the cabin. The last thing Betty or Jughead would sense was the smashing of glass and the heat from the flames. Betty wondered, “Is this my last thought before I die?”

After that, everything was black.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for teasing so far! I’ll update each Monday! 
> 
> Many thanks to Jandy for the support and edits!!!


	3. Chapter 3

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/192454274@N08/51010198772/in/album-72157718550812672/)

“The trauma said, ‘Don’t write these poems.  
Nobody wants to hear you cry about the grief inside your bones.”

Andrea Gibson, The Madness Vase

**Unknown Location**

It’s funny the way your brain works right before you die. In every movie and novel, it’s almost romanticized- your life flashes before your eyes. You see family, friends, and beautiful memories. But the actual truth is much different. Jughead remembered repeating, “Eight steps back to the emergency exit door,” and “Don’t compress your neck down too far.” “Cover your head”. “Watch out for flames.” “Don’t let go of Betty.” “You’re going to die.” “She’s going to die.”

The blurs before his eyes were pixelated and swirled, flashes of dark blue and deep green blending together and deformed as if he had a bokeh filter on his iris’. A whirring, piercing hum flowed ear to ear, lancing straight through his skull with its high-pitched scream. The sound was so wretched that it could only mean one of two things; Either he was alive, at least for now, or he was dead and he’d been wrong all this time… there _was_ an afterlife and he was in hell. A muffled sound broke through the buzzing, progressively getting louder and more aggressive until he felt hands on his chest, tapping his cheeks and calling his name.

“Jug!” the voice begged. “Wake up, brother. Come on now, Jug! Wake up! This isn’t how you go out, man! Not like this!”

“Arch,” he said meekly, his eyes slowly beginning to focus on the scenery around him and all at once feeling the rush of pain flow through his body. Sucking in a gasping breath of air, he began to tremble, his body shuddering from a combination of shock and pain. “I think, maybe, next time let’s just do a staycation, yeah?”

Archie chuckled, and though Jughead’s vision was still a bit compromised, he could swear he heard tears catch in his best friend’s throat. “Yeah. Whatever you say, Jug. Listen, I’m going to check you out alright? I’m going to check your injuries.”

Jughead mumbled a string of unintelligible syllables that Archie took as agreement and he began to check him for serious damage. Truthfully, he had no way of knowing if there was any serious internal damage. He could have a fractured skull under the plethora of small cuts and bruises that littered Jughead’s face as well as his own. What he could do, why he could control at that moment, was to check for viable damage. Archie began with a visual perusal. He could tell by the awkward way that it dangled that his shoulder was dislocated. Pressing on his ankle bones and making his way up to his legs, Archie determined he had at least a fracture midway up his right leg and judging from his hiss of pain when he got to his chest, a few broken ribs as well. 

“Some of your ribs are broken, Jug. And I think your ankle is fractured. Can you… can you move your legs at all?”

Jughead stared up at the moon and breathed steadily through the pain, almost nervous to even try. What if his legs wouldn’t move? What if he was paralyzed. Finding the strength within, he closed his eyes and gave it a go, first his left leg moving, followed by his right. Jughead sighed out a huge sigh of relief, as did Archie.

“Good, that’s good, Jug. I’m going to help you sit up now and check your back and your head, alright?” Jughead managed a slight nod, not looking forward to the movement. “I’ll go slow.”

Archie clasped a hand with his and placed another behind his back, hissing as the lift put a strain on his own, self-determined injuries. As his head raised, Jughead was filled with an overwhelming feeling of nausea and he turned to the side, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the sand next to him. Archie helped brace him since he couldn’t put weight on his arm. 

Though it had taken him a while to get his bearings after Archie woke him, Jughead knew that later he would inevitably crash with the pain, but right then he was running on pure adrenaline now, hoping by some small miracle the girls were alive as well.

“Jug,” Archie said apologetically as Jughead wiped his mouth with his good hand. “You might wanna wait on cleaning up. I have to snap your arm back in place and you might throw up again after I’m done.”

Jughead, still heaving heavily, just nodded at Archie and curled his hand into a fist, pressing it hard onto the sand. Archie scooted his way behind him and got a hold of his upper body.

“This reminds me of when Coach Clayton did this for Reggie back in high school,” Archie mused, moving his hands to grip the wrist of Jughead’s injured arm.

As Archie chatted, he scooted back around front, determining it was definitely a forward dislocation.

“It was amazing. Reggie literally let out the highest pitch scream I’ve ever heard.” As Archie heard Jughead chuckle, he applied the pressure he’d learned from his time boxing and with a “pop”, he snapped the bone into its socket, earning an animalistic scream from his friend’s lips.

“For suck’s sake, Arch!” Jughead spat out, breathing between his clenched teeth. “Warn a guy!”

It was then that Jughead finally had completely looked up. He could see the waves of the ocean gently grazing the shore before him and the stars reflecting on the water’s surface. The air was sticky and warm, similar to what he imagined any tropical resort might feel like, humid and thick like the whole month of August. What drew his eye the most were the fragments of blazing metal still sprinkled out among the water, smoke rising high into the night air, and the giant hull of the wreckage, spread out in pieces over the course of about five-hundred-feet across the sand. It was only seeing the plane that his mind returned to its other occupants.

“Betty and Ronnie!” Jughead cried out at Archie, trying to get to his feet.

“Whoa! Hey! Whoa!” Archie yelled, halting him. “Slowly, man. You have a gash on the back of your head, a fracture in one leg, and some broken ribs. You need to take it easy.”

“But the girls-”

“We will look for the girls,” Archie promised. “Just like I looked for you. And while I’m trying to be hopeful here since only one engine was out and technically I got the plane to touch down on the wheel first, we did lose half the plane and go catapulting across this terrain.”

“What are you saying, Arch?” Jughead breathed deeply.

“I’m saying that while I’m going to go look for the girls now, of course, I can’t lose you. What if it’s just...us.”

Jughead’s knee-jerk first reaction was to chastise Archie and disagree with his statements, but with the throbbing in his shoulder subsiding, he had more clarity and Archie was right. They needed to be careful and if Archie could stay semi-calm while his fiancé was missing, so could he. Glancing up at his friend he nodded and Archie smiled back, offering him a hand and helping him to his feet slowly. It was only then Jughead saw the extent of the injuries on his shirtless friend. Archie seemed to have acquired burns down his whole left side, not deep or severe enough for skin grafting, but enough that they looked raw and painful.

“Fuck, Arch,” he said, moving to examine the scorches, pulling back when Archie flinched. “How bad?”

“Bad enough to scar in at least two spots,” he shrugged. “Kinda sucks on top of some broken ribs and I’m sure we both have concussions. But it could be worse.”

It could be worse. The thought sat quietly between them. They could be dead. The girls could be dead. Looking around the debris, Archie found a long piece of the wooden bar discarded in the sand and handed it to Jughead to use for support as they walked, reminding him to keep the crutch on his uninjured side to keep the weight off his fractured ankle. After taking a few moments to adjust to the walking aid, they set out down the beach, scanning the dark for signs of movement.

“Betty!”

“Ronnie!”

“Betts!”

“Veronica!”

They didn’t have to wait long. A feral and terrifying scream pierced the night, so shrill and fearsome in its conjuring that it penetrated deep into their bones like a hollow cry from the depths of hell itself. They looked at each other warily before Archie took off at a run, Jughead hobbling behind him as fast as he could muster. Fifty yards down the surf a figure came into view, one with raven hair and blood-shot eyes. Her dress was torn in several spots and her heels were long gone. Her legs bore a few burns similar to Archie’s and she had a plethora of cuts. She also, no doubt, had a concussion for her toss into the bar earlier. Other than that, she seemed relatively unscathed. Perhaps already being limp and unconscious during the landing had worked in her favor.

“Ronnie!” Archie yelled as he reached her side. “Ronnie it’s me. It’s Archie. You’re safe now. It's alright.”

Her screaming didn’t stop. One long, drawn-out scream after another flew from her lips as she stared out over the water, not reacting to the presence of her fiancé or friend.

In desperation, Archie grabbed Veronica by the shoulders and tried to pull her into his chest, recoiling as the fabric of her dress touched his burns. Jughead pushed him out of the way and grabbed at her, hugging her tightly as her body shook. 

“It’s alright, Veronica,” he soothed. “It’s Jughead. Archie is here with me. We’re alive. We landed on the shore of an island. Your feet are on the ground. Feel the sand below them.”

Her breathing seemed to calm at his words as her screams faded into whimpers. 

“Good, V,” Jughead said calmly, using Betty’s nickname for her to draw her back to reality. “Just keep feeling that sand and solid ground. Crunch it between your toes. Take deep breaths…”

Veronica looked up and met Jughead’s eyes, taking a deep breath and wincing as she did. The seatbelt pressure after impact seemed to have bruised, if not broken, a few of her ribs as well.

“Jughead,” she sobbed out, hugging him back as tightly as she could, the pain he damned. He could feel her tears on his face, or maybe they were his own, but couldn’t care less.

“Yeah,” he chuckled out. “Don’t think you can get rid of me that easily.”

Happily, she joined in on his laugh, hugging him tighter. “Though I don’t think I’ll get you to fly again,” she teased. “Not that I’ll be vacationing either.”

Pulling back, she found her fiancé waiting patiently, rocking back-and-forth on his heels, wanting nothing more than to grab her.

“Archiekins,” Veronica cried in a whisper. Jughead stepped aside so she could see him more clearly. Through the moonlight, she could see his burns and bruising. She ran her hand over them, but in the air, avoiding touch on his inflamed skin.

“Ronnie,” Archie cried happily. “I can’t believe you’re… thank God…” He couldn’t finish the rest. Veronica kissed him with all she had, pressing her forehead to his as Jughead turned away to give them privacy. 

Veronica's appearance made him hopeful for Betty. Then a pit formed deep in his stomach. Statistically, three of them surviving had to be odd, so for all four…Jughead swiped angrily at his mouth and pushed his dangerous thoughts away. Betty _had_ to be alive. She _had_ to be fine. Out of all of them, she was the best. She was kind to everyone. She volunteered. She donated to charities, gave her time at shelters, she even knit for the homeless last Christmas. She _had_ to live. If he was given another lease on life, and if there ever was any form of God, Betty had to be alive. 

As if reading his mind, Veronica sniffled and looked around. “Where’s Betty?”

Archie glanced blankly down the beach. “I just found Jug about twenty minutes ago and then we heard you. We haven’t found Betty yet.”

Veronica’s lips quivered. She had to be thinking about what they all were. What were the odds they were _all_ alive?

“We’ll keep looking then,” Veronica sniffled. “It’s Betty. She’s survived worse. She’s strong and smart. Betty can’t… she just can’t be, okay. She can’t be gone.”

“Ron,” Arch said softly. 

“We have to go now,” Veronica snapped. “It’s dark. Betty doesn’t like the dark. Not alone.”

Grabbing hands with Archie, Veronica began to search the shore. She grasped at Jughead’s injured elbow as well, wanting him to feel connected to them. They could all use comfort right now. While Betty wasn’t his fiancé, nor had they ever even kissed, Veronica knew he loved her. They all loved her, but he was in love with her. Pushing off the shock that was no doubt settling into their bodies, they circled the shoreline. After an hour they had gone a considerable distance and the flaming engine resembled a far-away campfire.

“Why are there no resorts?” Jughead asked in between yelling her name. “There are no chairs, no hotels… I haven’t even seen a stray towel or snorkel.”

“I was wondering the same,” Archie said, tossing Jughead a worried look. “With the flames and all the noise of the crash someone, if not an entire medic unit, should have been down to the wreckage by now.”

“What if they come and we’re not there?” Veronica asked. “What if while we’re down here they are out looking for us?”

The beach they hand landed on was surrounded on two sides by giant rock formations, metamorphic rocks jutting out from mountains on land into the sea on both sides. It was as if the mountains were holding them there. As if they were trapped.

“What are you suggesting?” Jughead snapped. “Are you suggesting we just give up? That we leave her out there alone?”

“Jug,” Archie sighed. “She’s not on the beach, man. I… she could be in the water or in the forest of trees behind us. We’re all injured. We can’t hike into the tree line at night while we can’t even see.”

“Sure!” Jughead yelled. “You found your fiancé, right? One out of two isn’t bad. How can you- how can you just leave her? She could be bleeding… or hurt! She would _never_ leave one of us and you know it and you’re okay with leaving her out there, to possibly die alone?”

“We’re bleeding, Jughead!” Veronica screamed back at him, arms wrapped tightly around herself. “We _are_ hurt and yeah, I’d bet Betty is, too. And if she hasn’t made her way to our voices in the past hour, I would also assume she’s hurt worse than us.”

Dead. That’s what Veronica didn’t say, but Jughead could just make out the word, separate to slip between her lips.

“Jug, there could be wild animals, caves, and who-knows-what out there in the trees. We have no water, no shoes, no flashlights. If we really want to help Betty, we should go back to the wreck and see if help comes. Then a whole search party can go after her. We can’t help her if we’re dead.”

Jughead stared his friends down for a moment before hanging his head and nodding. They were right. They weren’t giving up, but they couldn’t even see in the thick trees. They were more likely to exacerbate their own injuries than find her tonight.

“We take watches,” Jughead demanded. “In case we hear her… or anything.”

“We take watches,” Archie agreed, wrapping an arm around Ronnie as they headed back to the crash site, the silence between them only filled by the rolling of the waves.

….

When they reached the plane there were no rescuers anywhere in sight. They each flopped down against the sand, exhausted and defeated. Jughead’s leg was throbbing from the effort of the long walk along the uneven sand and Veronica’s head pounded, her vision almost doubled from her blunt blow to the head. Though they were both worse for the wear, and Jughead was worried about his cuts and infection, it was Archie he was worried about the most. The burns on his side couldn’t be easy to manage, the sand was inundating his skin like tiny needles each time it whipped up with the wind. He could see Archie wince with each movement of his arm as he slung it over his fiance’s shoulders, trying to console her, all the while his own body trembled, clearly going into shock.

“Arch,” Jughead said, grimacing already. “We need to clean your burns.”

Archie’s jaw clenched as he thought about the pain. He knew Jughead was right, but knowing and actually doing it were two different things. “Yeah. No, you’re right. I’ll just take a quick dip in the ocean and-”

“No!” Veronica yelled, clutching his arm. “It’s dark and we have no idea what’s in the shallows. With your open wounds, you could attract anything. Haven’t you ever watched Shark Week? No swimming after dusk!”

Archie rubbed gently at her back, reassuring her it would be okay, but Jughead agreed with her.

“Forget the possibility of sharks, but have either of you noticed we are most definitely _not_ anywhere near the Swiss Alps? This is a tropical climate and warm water like this, even ocean water, can breed bacteria, especially if there’s a reef nearby. I watch Shark Week too, you know.”

  
  


By now Archie was trembling heavier, his coloring grey with a sickly pallor. Jughead looked at his friend who had pushed aside his pain to help him earlier and rose to his feet.

“Jughead,” Veronica asked, worriedly. “Where are you going?”

Wiping the sand from his pants, he took off this flannel, warm from the muggy air. “I’m going to check the plane. I see stuff strewn all across the beach, and we can scavenge in the morning, but Arch needs clean water and to be bandaged now.”

“I can help,” Veronica said quickly, slowly making her way back up to her feet. “You might need someone with two goods legs. Plus, I know where the first aid and medic kits were and I know Betty had aloe in her bag if we can find it.”

Archie looked confused, scrunching up his face in puzzlement at Ronnie’s words. “We were going to Switzerland in December. Why would Betty have aloe?”

“Because,” Veronica laughed. “Bettykins is so absolutely pasty and devoid of color that the last time we went skiing together she was sunburned by the reflection of the sun off the snow. I know for a fact that she packed sunscreen and aloe this time because she didn’t want another week-long goggle-burn where she looked like the Hamburglar.”

They all burst out laughing, groaning, and wincing as it jostled their ribs. “I remember that,” Jughead laughed. “She was so mad when I kept bringing her burgers from Pop’s and telling her it was so she didn’t have to go steal any. She would just slap me and then invite me in to share them as she holed up working from home until the color faded.”

As he shared the memory, his smile slowly faded as he thought about how one-fourth of their group wasn’t there. Swallowing bile and the deep sense of regret that billowed up in his stomach, he quietly headed off towards the plane, hoping some of the items that were sealed in cabinets managed to remain intact and in place. With the hull of the cabin tipped slightly on its side, climbing in wasn’t as easy as he hoped with his fracture. Veronica scanned the beach and piled up cushions, boards, and fragments of metal to make a make-shift step-stool they could stand on, pulling themselves into the plane while avoiding the jagged metal pieces sticking out.

Jughead stood, leaning heavily on the uncomfortable block of wood Archie had found as a crutch for him, surveying the damage. The couches were somehow still intact along the sides, though littered with tears and scorch marks from the blast from the engine before it dislodged itself. The bar had been smashed in half, a giant hunk of mangled plane metal now penetrating the middle. Jughead shuddered to think what would have become of him if that had spiraled down the right side of the plane rather than the left. He could see the ocean through the gaping hole in the back where Archie and Ronnie had been sleeping minutes before this nightmare had begun.

Turning his head, Jughead found Veronica bent over and vomiting, holding her ribs as she did so before sending him an apologetic look.

“Sorry,” she groaned. “This… this is all a lot to take in. I mean, we were here. We were _just_ here and this is all my fault-”

Jughead hobbled over to her side and took her hand, avoiding the one that had just wiped her lips.

“Hey, no,” he said sternly. “Don’t be embarrassed. I already puked earlier and I have a feeling we are going to be seeing each other at our worst as this situation unfolds. And this is not your fault.”

“But if I-”

“If you what?” Jughead argued. “If you hadn’t tried to plan something nice for your friends? If you hadn’t wanted us to spend time together? You didn’t plan this Veronica. No one did. It just...happened.”

A dark shadow fell across her face, sparked by something in his words, something she was not yet ready to address or consider. Smoothing back her hair and removing her hand from his own he cleared her throat and began to look around.

“Let’s get searching. I don’t want to leave Archie alone too long.”

They sorted through the rubble together, heaving furniture difficulty and searching cabinets. The lower storage compartment was badly battered but remained closed and their suitcases, while the contents were strewed all over the floor, were still there. Jughead climbed down into the storage area, wishing they had a flashlight available. The light of the moon, though bright with many visible stars, could only do so much.

“Try and find clothes we can use as bandages and Betty’s toiletry kit,” Veronica said, tiredly. “I’ll go and look for the first aid by the cockpit and water.”

Jughead sorted through loose articles of clothing first, determining a few of his and Archie’s t-shirts to be the best materials to rip up for bandages before also sorting through his bag for the swiss army knife with gadgets he had packed away as well. It had been a gift from FP and he always had it just in case. He expected climbing back into the plane to be traumatic and emotional, but the hardest part was sorting through the items he knew to be Betty’s. He surpassed the delicate items of lace and gravitated towards the sweaters he’d seen her wear in the past- those were his Betty. 

A green one was haphazardly strewn across a ventilation pipe, covered in a white foam that must have burst from somewhere above. Another red one lay at his feet. Picking it up he remembered how she had worn that when Veronica dragged them ice-skating in Rockefeller Center one Christmas. Jughead had complained about the crowds to mask how warm and satisfied he felt when Betty held his hand to keep him upright. The tree glittering was only half as bright as the smile she’d flashed him. In the present, Jughead’s heart splintered as he tossed the sweater away, only to run and pick it up again, folding it gently and placing it down in her now empty suitcase.

Not far from her bag were a few pairs of gloves and hats. One in particular caught his eyes. It was gray and knit, no crown points on the rim, but it still reminded him of the old hat he used to wear in college, refusing to take it off once he knew how much it pissed off Veronica when he wore it to dinner parties and college formals. After they all graduated, the fun of the beanie had worn off and he had tucked it away for safekeeping, many memories attached to the woolen artifact. Many of those memories involved Betty and her laughter at Veronica’s annoyance. When she’d storm out of the room, claiming knit hats didn’t belong with a suit, Betty would adjust smile and fix the rim, reassuring him he still looked dashing, and how when she needed rescuing she’d be more easily able to pick him out in a room full of suits.

Jughead pocketed the hat. He needed to cover the wound on his head anyway and having something of hers made him feel closer to her- as if she were still here and not simply vanished into the unknown.

“Jug!” Veronica called from above. “I found water and the first aid kit. Let’s get out of here. It’s way too...eerie in the dark.”

Jughead scanned the floor and found the pink floral bag Betty always packed toiletries in and snatched it from the floor. He had teased her about its size and how she had to pack so much, but he was grateful now. Clambering back up to the main cabin he found Veronica waiting, some whiskey and a ton of water bottles assembled and ready to go. Unable to carry it all, they stored some in the front of the plane and returned to Archie with the rest in tow. Jughead had also grabbed a blanket off the beach. Most others had been sucked from the plane when the back end detached since they weren’t secured. He’d look for them in the morning.

“You’re back,” Archie sighed happily, the worry plain as day on his face.

“Don’t look so happy to see me, Arch,” Jughead teased, though his tone had a serious edge to it. “I’m about to clean out your burn.”

Archie winced just at the thought as Jughead began to prepare. He ripped one of his t-shirts into long strips with his knife and stretched them out as much as he could and grabbed the antiseptic, aloe, and some gauze from the first aid kit. He took the belt off his pants and handed it to Archie. Veronica cocked her head to the side, confused, but Archie nodded up at him in thanks, gripping it tight in his fingers for now.

Little by little, Jughead poured water over the wounds, letting it drip down Archie’s side and pool in little red puddles on the sand. He hoped he was cleaning out all the debris. He’d check again in the morning when he changed the bandages.

With a deep breath, Jughead picked up the bottle of whiskey, offering Archie a sip first, which he happily accepted.

“You ready?” Jughead asked and Archie nodded, settling the leather belt between his teeth just as Jughead began to pour. The sting and the burn was unbearable, worse than the actual burns themselves. At least then he had been so high on adrenaline he hadn’t felt the full effects. Now, weak and exhausted, his body trembled at the pain. Screaming out against the belt, his saliva dripping over its edges, Archie tried not to blackout as Veronica muffled her sobs behind her hands.

“Okay,” Jughead said softly. “I’m going to put a little aloe where I can and wrap them. You may want to keep the belt for this, too.”

Jughead poured a bit of whiskey on his hands to disinfect them before dabbing the aloe onto his fingers, smoothing it over some of the patches on Archie’s skin as he hissed and struggled to remain immobile. Finally, he covered the raw areas with gauze and tied strips of the t-shirt around his torso to cover them tightly. Jughead draped the blanket he had grabbed over Archie’s shoulders and wrapped it under his chin.

“It’s like eighty degrees, Jughead,” Veronica snapped, on edge from the scene she just witnessed. “He doesn't need a blanket.”

“He does,” Jughead replied calmly, knowing she was completely petrified at the moment and yelling wouldn't help. “Look at him shaking. His body went through a massive trauma and cleaning those wounds was no picnic. He’s in shock, Ron, and he needs to be warm.”

“Jug’s right,” Archie agreed.

Veronica shook her head and looked back at them both. “How do you two know all of this? How did you even know what to do just now?”

Despite the horror of the day and the dread of the future, the boys looked at each other and smiled.

“Fred.” 

“Dad,” they said at the same time.

“He always took us camping,” Archie explained. “A few times a year. Each time he’d teach us wilderness skills and survival tips. Jug and I used to laugh. When would we ever need them?”

Jughead hummed and looked up at the sky. “Turns out Fred was right, as always.”

They took a while after that, Veronica and Jughead cleaning out the cuts on their limbs and faces, paying special attention to the one on the back of Jughead’s skull for which the bleeding had thankfully stopped, though he was pretty sure it needed at least one stitch. When she was finished, he popped Betty’s hat on, claiming it would secure the bandage and keep out sand, but truthfully he wanted something of hers close to him. At some point, while they worked Archie had drifted off to sleep, his features softer now.

“Go lay with him, Ron,” Jughead offered. “I’ll keep watch for rescuers.”

Veronica nodded and lay at Archie’s side, one hand resting across the blanket.

“You’ll wake me if you need to?” she asked.

Jughead made a cross over his heart before laying back to look up at the sky himself. “Promise.”

She was asleep almost instantly, her body giving in to the extreme fatigue she’d had been fighting and he sighed, closing his eyes for just a moment picturing Betty out there, somewhere in the night, hopefully sleeping peacefully, too.

.....

**Riverdale, New York**

Hiram sighed, looking at the unknown number and in no mood to talk. The same line had called four times previously, first around ten while he and Hermione tried to enjoy their after-dinner apéritifs. Grumbling in annoyance, he finally picked up the line.

“What?” he snapped, expecting to hear one of his many associates on the other end.

“Hiram?” a feminine voice asked, wavering a bit in uncertainty. Though it was a voice he hadn’t heard in years, since the girls graduated from college, it was one he knew well.

“Alice,” he sighed. “Forgive me. I’ve had calls from so many business affiliates today over nonsense and I presumed this was another. If I had known it was you I would have picked up right away. What can I do for you?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Alice said easily. “I get calls from spammers wanting to extend my car warranty all day. I never pick up unknowns either. I figured if I kept calling… well you know. I was wondering if you’d heard from the girls. Betty said she’d call when they touched down and that was hours ago.”

Hiram rolled his eyes in annoyance. Alice was _constantly_ hovering over Betty as a child and it seemed things were no different in adulthood. “I haven’t, but that isn’t abnormal. Veronica rarely checks in daily when away.”

“Veronica might not, but Betty does,” Alice said more forcefully. “She always has, without fail, every time. She knows I will stay up and wait. I tried calling the airport, but since it’s a private airfield and I don’t have an affiliation, they just hang up.”

Hiram pinched the bridge of his nose. It was one in the morning now and he was becoming increasingly agitated. “Have you tried her phone? Maybe it died en route.”

“It rings and rings, but there’s no answer,” Alice sniffled. “Hiram, I’m worried.”

With a heavy sigh, he hung his head. “Alice, I’m sure they are already just out and enjoying themselves. I'll try Veronica and if I can't get a hold of her, I'll check with my pilot, alright?”

“Thank you,” she whispered, relieved. “Sorry to bother you so late, but I just need to know they are fine.”

After exchanging goodbyes, Hiram clicked on the lamp and sat up in bed, stepping into his slippers before heading towards his study.

“Times’it?” Hermione mumbled from beneath the covers.

Turning back slowly, he whispered, “Go back to bed. Everything is fine.”

Once in his study, he dialed Veronica. The call went directly to voicemail and although he told Alice not to worry, a sudden feeling of dread weaved its way down his spine, leaving his scalp all prickly with nerves. His next call was to Patrick, his pilot. Since it was late he figured it may take a few minutes to awaken and answer. After six tries his stomach knotted further. He finally gave in, calling the airport in Switzerland where his jet was due to arrive.

“This is Hiram Lodge, member number F6284118,” he began. “My daughter and her friends were on my jet scheduled to arrive on your airstrip earlier this evening. Can you confirm their arrival?”

From the other end of the line, Hiram heard flips of paper and the clacking of keys. Above that, he heard whispering.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Lodge,” a new voice replied. “It’s Daniel Huber.”

“Daniel,” Hiram sighed, relieved. “It’s been quite a night. The girls forgot to phone in and one mother is worried even though her daughter is fully-grown, and-”

“Hiram, we don’t have your plane’s manifesto or arrival on record for today,” Daniel said, nervously. 

“What do you mean?” Hiram asked nervously. “I scheduled the arrival with you, myself the other day.”

Daniel hummed in agreement for a moment before replying. “Yes, and Patrick, your pilot, cancelled it yesterday afternoon.”

Silence hung on the line for a while before he could formulate his thoughts. “But they took off this afternoon. If you’re saying they didn’t land in Switzerland, then where the hell is my plane? With air traffic security today a plane can’t just disappear!”

“Indeed, it can’t,” Daniel agreed. “But it seems that it has. Tell me, what can I do for you, Hiram?”

“Do?” he barked out angrily. “What you can do is help me find my daughter!”

“That I will do, sir.” Daniel agreed. “I will make some inquiries on our side. Perhaps you might do the same with Patrick’s family. Perhaps your daughter may have changed the destination without your knowledge.”

“It’s possible,” he agreed, hesitantly. “I'll look into it. I expect to hear from you within the hour.”

Hanging up the phone, Hiram rubbed at his chin. He had called Patrick repeatedly with no answer. He didn’t have his wife’s number, but he did have their address. Not bothering to change, he threw on a robe and called down to the doorman.

“Bring the car around,” he demanded. “I am in sudden need of an early-morning drive.”

.....

**Unknown Location**

The sun was beating down on them where they lay sleeping in the sand. Jughead awoke first, seeing Archie and Veronica still huddled closely together and thankfully both breathing. Some lookout he was. He’d fallen asleep in minutes. Scanning the beach he could see the engine fires burned out, the smoke replaced with dewy morning air in this tropical paradise. The water was pristine and clear, clearer than he could have ever imagined. If this was under any other circumstance, he’d be pulling out his camera to photograph the majestic beauty before him, the stark contrast of the bright beautiful island between the dark, rugged rock mountains.

From his right, an object fifty-feet down the beach caught his eye. It was wood, and possibly some of the plane cushions, and maybe something else. He couldn’t quite tell. The longer he looked, the clearer the tangled mess became until finally, his brain was able to process exactly what he saw.

“Betty!” Jughead yelled, waking Archie and Veronica from their slumber. 

He didn’t wait for them to react. Without his crutch he took off hobbling down the sand, his friends catching on and chasing after him as rapidly as possible in their conditions, all reaching the tangled mess around the same time. The figure was Betty, somehow strapped atop a cushion and a cabinet door through the clips of her life vest. She lay face down and still, not even a strand of her water-logged hair blowing in the breeze. Veronica crashed to her knees and touched her back, sucking in a breath and choking back a sob.

“Archie,” she cried. “Do something! I’m not sure if she’s breathing!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as always, and since it’s Riverdale, I’m allowing the inane to happen. YES obviously Archie can totally semi-land a plane- Uncle Frank totally took him flying. And yeah, you can totally crash land a plane as he did. At least they had no overhead luggage compartments which is what causes many of the most debilitating injuries in plane crashes.
> 
> The internet also told me that blasts of fire are a thing and you should fly covered up as much as you can (and have a hoodie so you can cover your head in that situation since you don’t always get a blanket).
> 
> I’m sorry for the end suspense and for what is to come! But trust me- I won’t steer you wrong! There is no tag for major character death here so let that soothe you!
> 
> Many thanks to Jandy for her super-human beta skills!  
> Check out updates for stories on Tumblr @likemereckless


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We pick up where we left off? Can they find a way to save Betty? Or is it already too late? Also, I hate writing summaries.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/192454274@N08/51010198772/in/album-72157718550812672/)

“I don't know how to describe the sound of a world crashing. Maybe there is no sound, just a great emptiness, an enveloping sorrow, a creeping nothingness that coils itself around you like a stiff wire.”

Charles Blow, Fire Shut Up in My Bones

**Hours Earlier**

**Unknown Location**

She was wet. It was the water that brought her back to startling reality, a quick and harsh jolt that left her no time to adjust. Her body was compressed, a heavy pressure weighed down upon her from the water above as she sank beneath the blue. She opened her eyes, the sting of the salt hitting them felt like no more than a paper cut compared to the pain in the rest of her body. 

_ “Where am I? What do I do? I survived the plane and I’m going to drown,”  _ all buzzed around in her head as the ocean water filled her ears. Pinpricks of moonlight assaulted her through her cloudy vision, but she was still having a hard time determining which way was up, disoriented from a concussion, no doubt. 

Terrified and unprepared, her body’s instincts took hold, opening her mouth to scream before remembering she was submerged and breathing would be bad. Her arms and legs began to flail, heavy and uncooperative in part so to her injuries. Her brain told her to follow the pinpricks of moonlight, that must be the surface, and she willed her body to abide by that. But the instinct to breathe could only be suppressed for so long as her body craved what it needed, and hers needed oxygen. No longer able to vanquish her body’s craving for air, her lungs betrayed her, sucking in water, silently choking her. 

Then panic set in, tears dissolving in the vast saltwater blanket smothering her rapidly. Kicking and thrashing, her uncooperative limbs spiraling in every direction, she felt herself moving, whether up towards the light or down towards a permanent, peaceful slumber, she was unsure. Slowly her arms began to falter and her legs began to slow, her brain foggy and complacent.

Though she had only at that moment come to accept her fate, it seemed as if the ocean had not, a large wave ripping through and disrupting the water, propelling Betty through its wake. Her body collided with something hard, a stabbing, searing pain settling in on the right of her chest, somewhere between her ribs. The blow onto the surface knocked the wind from her stomach and she coughed up water, wheezing and snorting as the liquid left her system to crawl back to its host.

Exhausted, but full of the will to live, Betty summoned whatever strength was left in her to grip the board and chunk of metal before her, heaving herself atop them before allowing her body to rest.

_ “You’re alive,” _ Betty thought to herself as she lay there adrift.  _ “But for how long? Will you float out to sea? Will a wave tip you? Will anyone even find you?” _ She wished she could slap her own subconscious. There was no need to dwell on the future when even the here-and-now was unpredictable. Without the water’s help, she was now struggling to move her left arm. She wasn’t sure if there was a break or a dislocation, but something was amiss. She took a deep breath and steadied herself, figuring it was time to check her other injuries.

“Assess your injuries, Elizabeth,” Betty said aloud to herself, taking on the efficient voice of her mother who would tell her though you’re in pain you can’t feel sorry for yourself. You must do what needs to be done. Perhaps she had been hard on Alice all these years. Her no-nonsense and unsympathetic affect might help her survive.

“Okay, Betty,” she said meekly. “Let’s check the damage.”

She began by wiggling her toes and rolling her ankles. Definitely a fracture, not a break, on the right side. Both of her legs moved, though a large gash, possibly from the seat belt buckle, marked her left thigh up to her hip, having torn straight through her jeans. She felt along her abdomen, knowing ribs were broken or bruised until she came to the point of pain from moments before. Her hand snagged on the point of metal, a stray piece of the plane sticking up from her chest, stuck somewhere between her ribs. She was unsure how deep it went, but she hadn’t hit this board  _ that _ hard. Betty quickly remembered Jughead’s book research had taken him into the macabre at one point and she learned that it was not easy to puncture the cartilage between ribs and she could only hope he was correct. She’d leave it there for now, not wanting to bleed out over the open sea.

Betty let her head roll laxly to the side, now away from the open sea and towards where she saw land. She could see through the darkness the smoke and flames from where the engine fell and wondered if her friends had made it alive or if they were somewhere below her, lost to the vastness of the ocean. She wished she could swim, but her body was too damaged and her bleeding would no doubt draw predators in these warm waters. With the sky clear she looked up at the constellations, chuckling when she noticed Andromeda was above her, the girl who had been chained upon a rock in the ocean for a sea monster to devour.

  
  


“Thanks for the positive sign, fate,” Betty laughed, more out of despair than anything else before remembering that Andromeda was saved by Perseus. But she wasn’t Andromeda. She was Elizabeth Cooper and she had only ever saved herself. She was a survivor. When her father, notorious serial killer, The Black Hood, had come for her, she prevailed. And she would now.

Pressing up with her good arm and shrieking as the metal jabbed further into her ribs she took deep breaths, pressing the air back out through her clenched teeth. She teetered and paused, keeping her balance. She did not want to wind up in the water again. Scanning the debris in reachable distance, Betty laughed and shook her head at the sky as a life vest came into view. Perhaps the ocean was trying to help her after all. 

Scooting carefully towards the left of her makeshift raft, she gripped the string of the vest and pulled it in, wrapping herself in it before snapping the clicks in place. The whole process took longer than she’d like and she couldn’t tighten it over her chest, but as she became more alert and aware, her pain levels increased tenfold. 

If she could only lay on her stomach she could easily paddle her way to shore, but the shard lodged in her rib wouldn’t allow for that so she made due as best she could, grabbing another piece of metal to guide herself through the sea. It wasn’t easy with only one good arm, but she slapped the metal hard against the ocean’s surface, pressing back and paddling her way towards shore.

Why may have only been fifteen minutes felt like hours, days. Her breath was coming in steady pants and her head rocked on her shoulders, muscles trembling from exertion. The paddling motion contracted her muscles around the shard in her rib cage and she could see more blood seeping through the tear in her shirt. The land was so close, Betty laughed, as her paddle slowed, her arms cascading to her side. If she could just paddle a little more…

She was tired, so very tired. Perhaps it was shock, or maybe exertion. Or maybe it was the confusion and blood loss, but there, twenty-feet from shore, Betty’s body slid down onto the boards below her, a new darkness enveloping her in the night.

.....

**Riverdale**

Hiram pounded on the door where his pilot, Patrick, lived. Seven more phone calls had proved useless. 

“Patrick! Miranda!” he called, banging harder.

After a few moments with no response, afraid the neighbors would call the police, Hiram decided that they weren’t home. He turned to leave before pausing, turning back again to try the doorknob which jiggled back and forth easily.

“Now why would that be unlocked?” he pondered aloud to himself, twisting the knob before entering their apartment.

The place was disheveled, furniture overturned and papers scattered everywhere. Hesitantly, Hiram moved room to room, tiptoeing as quiet as possible, and then he saw them. Patrick and Miranda were seated at their dinner table, bound to their dining chairs, mouths taped shut tightly.

Their eyes widened in relief when they mumbled “Hiram!” and he rushed to their aid, ripping off the tape and taking the carving knife to cut their binding.

“Patrick,” he breathed out. “Good, lord. What happened here?”

“Oh thank God,” Patrick cried, springing forward to grab his wife. “I thought we were going to starve or die of lack of circulation here. And you- you’re alive! Did you stop them?”

“Stop them?” Hiram snapped, puzzled. “Stop who? I’m relieved you’re alright, but what are you talking about.”

“Well, you’re alive. So obviously you didn’t board for Switzerland. Two men showed up here, tied us up, and said they were going to sink you so far into the Atlantic you were never found.”

Hiram staggered backward and leaned against the wall, his heart seizing in his chest as he broke out into a cold, clammy sweat.

“What?” Patrick asked. “What is it?”

“Veronica,” he said, dazed. “Veronica was on the flight.”

.....

**Present**

**Unknown Location**

For a fraction of a second none of them moved. Veronica’s declaration that Betty might not be breathing was like a punch to the gut.

“No,” Jughead said staunchly, his face wrinkling up in anger and terror. “No, this is  _ not _ how Betty Cooper dies. Not her.”

Without care for his leg, he flung himself into the sand, tossing the boards and debris around her before carefully rolling her to her back. She was pale, more pale than usual and so very still. He gasped and choked on his own tears as his eyes reached the stab wound in her chest, the plane fragment still jutting out in victory.

“B- Be,” he stammered, running his hands over her in the air, as if his touch may break her. Sucking in a breath through his sobs, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before placing a shaking hand to her chest, leaning down to listen closely. The movement was weak, and for a moment he wondered if it were his own breath, and so he held his in, searching for Betty’s again. The rise and fall, though slight, came again and he jerked back, covering his face for a moment before looking up at Archie and Veronica.

“She’s breathing,” he cried out. “It’s- barely there, but… We have to help her. We need to.. we need to get her wound cleaned and dressed. We need to stop the bleeding.”

Archie looked sympathetically down at his friend while Veronica turned and cried into his chest. Jughead knew what they were thinking. It looked bad. It  _ was _ bad. She had survived the night, but even if they  _ could  _ stop the bleeding, would an infection set?

“Help me get her!” he yelled at Archie as he angled his hands under her arms. Archie seemed to react at once, carefully supporting her lower half as they lifted her, gently, and staggered back to camp. Once there, they carefully laid her out on the blanket, Veronica scrambling to gather the first aid supplies they had foraged for the night before. Neither Jughead nor Archie knew where to begin as they scanned her injuries, and Veronica pushed them out of the way to settle herself before her best friend. 

With the scissors from the kit, she cut through the left leg of Betty’s jeans, all the way to the hip, laying the fabric open so her thigh wound was clear. The huge gash from mid-thigh to hip was angry and red, but the bleeding had mostly stopped, luckily the artery had been spared. The wound bled a little as she pulled away the denim fabric, tearing up some of the scab that had begun to form. She quickly worked the same on her sweater, revealing the wound to her ribs.

“Fuck,” Archie swore, running a hand through his hair. “I- what do we do? We can’t leave that in there, but if we pull it out…”

“If we pull it out she could bleed out,” Veronica answered. “Jug?”

Jughead had finally gathered some of his composure as he knelt down in the sand next to Veronica. His fingers found the base of Betty’s ribs and he counted upwards in his head.  _ “One, two, three…” _

“It should have missed any major organs,” Jughead sighed in relief. “If you’re going to be stabbed in the chest, this isn’t the worst place. I- I think we should pull it out. We will have to wrap it tightly and stop the bleeding… she will need stitches, her leg wound as well.”

“How do you know all this?” Veronica asked, looking green at the thought of stitches. 

Jughead shrugged. “Book research,” he said quietly. “And my Dad… his time with the Serpents. I’ve helped stitch up a wound or two.”

There was a long period of quiet after that. Each of them felt as if this was one of those damned-if-you-do situations. Their combined anxiety was overwhelming. Archie in particular looked worse for the wear, sweating more than he should be despite the hot temperature. Jughead made a note to revisit that thought later.

“Should we wake her?” Veronica asked, unsure. “Or at least try?”

Jughead scoffed at Veronica and stared incredulously. “Yes. Let’s wake her up before we sew her body closed. That’s exactly what I’d want you to do.”

Veronica rolled her eyes in annoyance as Archie sank to the sand beside them. “Take it easy, Jug. We all just want to help. We’ve never been in this situation before.”

“You mean you’ve never crash-landed a plane?” a weak, hoarse voice interrupted. Their eyes all shot open as they stared down at Betty, her eyes open, but barely, as she offered them a slight smile, coughing up a bit of water and cringing as it shook her chest. “You guys look terrible.”

Veronica began to laugh, though through a haze of tears as she took Betty’s hand softly. “B! I can’t- we were so worried. You were barely breathing when we found you.”

“The ocean and I have an understanding, I think,” Betty whispered out. “Either that or I was very delusional and may have hallucinated for part of the time last night.”

Her eyes left Veronica to smile up at Archie and Jughead who sat on her other side. “D’you guys think you can ditch me that easily?”

“Well, we were hoping,” Archie joked as Jughead slapped his shoulder. “Kidding, man.”

“As happy as I am to see you awake, Betts, I wish you stayed asleep,” Jughead shared. “You’ve got two nasty cuts we need to clean and stitch and it won’t be a picnic.”

Betty bit her lip and let her eyes glance down at the gash in her chest, metal still visible, and the one on her leg, swallowing back bile at the thought of being sewed back together.

“What are you thinking?” Veronica asked softly, playing with Betty’s fingers unconsciously as she sat.

“I’m thinking,” Betty said, pausing to take a jagged breath. “That I’m glad I wore decent underwear when we left. Who knew I’d be modeling it on a tropical island.”

They all laughed at her attempt to diffuse the tension. They knew that was certainly not what she had been thinking, but her actual thoughts were grim and depressing and that certainly wouldn’t help this situation any.

“Who is going to do it?” Betty asked nervously. 

They all looked between each other, their eyes first settling on Jughead.

“I  _ can _ ,” he said, feeling their eyes on him. “But Veronica has far superior sewing skills. It will probably be tighter and neater if she does it.”

“Should we really be worrying about a scar right now?” Archie asked, trying to protect his fiancé.

“I mean for infection, Arch,” Jughead explained. “Her stitching is tighter and less debris will get in. I get the job done but I’m no seamstress.”

“I’ll do it,” Veronica said adamantly. “I’ll- it needs to be done, right?”

Jughead nodded and stood, wobbly. His leg was throbbing from overuse and the day was young. He grabbed the water and whiskey they had used on Archie. Stretching his neck, he felt the scab there pulling. He could probably use a stitch or two himself. Returning, he knelt back down and uncapped both bottles, hands shaking, before standing again and moving to sit behind Betty, bracing his knees on either side of her. 

“What are you doing?” she asked as he carefully let her rest back against him.

“Not sure if you’ve ever had alcohol poured on an open wound and then been sewn closed, but I’m pretty sure you’re going to move and have the urge to struggle. Let’s just say I’m here to keep you still and for comfort. Also, you might pass out,” Jughead explained.

Archie shuddered at the memory of the whiskey from the night before and Jughead pointed at him. “Your bandages get changed next and your burns cleaned again so be ready, Buddy.”

“Burns?” Betty asked, trying to get a better look.

“Pretty nasty ones,” Veronica shared, sterilizing the needle from the first aid kit with some alcohol. “We found your toiletries and used your aloe, though.”

Betty perked up at that. “There’s lavender oil in there, too. That heals burns so put some on, Arch. It’s good for cuts, too so if I pass out dab some on after my stitches.”

“Ready?” Archie asked, holding up the whiskey.

Betty shook her head no and looked around their tropical nightmare. “Do we- does this have to happen now? Shouldn’t someone on this island have seen the smoke? And wasn’t the plane being tracked? Help should be here by now…”

“That’s a topic of conversation for after you’re all closed up and disinfected, Betts,” Jughead insisted. “Do you want my belt to bite on?”

Veronica threaded the needle as Betty avoided watching and declined the belt. When she was ready Veronica shifted closer to her thigh.

“Talk to me?” Betty begged, looking up at Jughead.

Jughead ran a hand down her cheek and nodded. “What do you want me to talk about?”

“Anything. Just… don’t stop talking, okay?”

“Okay,” he promised, gripping her upper body as Veronica began to drip water over her hip gash, Archie following up with the whiskey.

As Betty yelled out, attempting to recoil her legs, Archie pressed her injured leg down and Jughead began to talk.

“Do you remember that night back in senior year when we went to Atlantic City?” Jughead reminisced. “You and Ronnie were determined to try every single martini on that bar menu in one night.”

As his voice began to calm her, Veronica made her first stitch, piercing her skin quickly and pulling the thread through as Betty arched her back and screamed out across the empty beach, Jughead using his arms to anchor her down.

“I remember you were on martini five when that old friend of your mom’s walked by with her grandkids,” Jughead laughed. “Watching you try to act sober while you talked was hilarious because the more sober you tried to act, the more drunk you looked.”

He wasn’t sure she was even listening as Veronica had really set into her work. She was biting her lip and squeezing his thighs, her nails definitely cutting through his skin, but he didn’t care. What were a few more cuts? What he couldn’t stand were her sharp cries of pain and the whimpers when she tried to hold them in. Each pierce of her skin pierced his heart as well. She shouldn’t have to endure this.

“That night we went to that 70’s club, remember?” he continued, his one arm now braced across her chest as he pressed kisses to her hair. “Veronica had no idea there would be so many black lights and her white dress wound up showing off her hot pink underwear.”

“Done!” Veronica announced.

“You did amazing, Betts,” Jughead praised, relieved as her fingernails made their way out of his thigh.

“Yeah, not like the next part gets any better,” Betty spat out between her clenched teeth, chest heaving as she waited for them to move to her other side to tend to her ribs.

Veronica scooted around the sand. Looking at the state of her friend she was awash with guilt. She had asked them to come on this trip and here she was, barely touched. It was the Lodge's Luck as her father called it: The Lodge’s always came out on top and unscathed. Veronica called it the Lodge’s Curse since it was usually at the expense of others.

“Okay, B,” Veronica sighed. “One more to go.” 

“Do it fast,” Betty begged, closing her eyes and tipping her head back to look away.

All around the wound Veronica dripped water, washing it out before Archie doused it with whiskey, wrapping his hands around the metal shard.

“Deep breath, Betts,” Jughead commanded. “And don’t look.”

Silently counting in his head, Archie gripped hard and on three tugged straight up, yanking the metal out.

“Son-of-a-bitch, I looked!” Betty howled before her head dropped back against Jughead’s shoulder, as he pressed a clean strip of t-shirt on the wound.

“She’s out,” he sighed, relieved. “Stop the bleeding.”

Archie applied heavy pressure until the bleeding slowed and Veronica stitched her closed neatly. While Betty was still out, Archie also popped her shoulder back into place, laying her down to rest afterward while Veronica put three stitches on the back of Jughead’s scalp, which upon further inspection in the sunlight, had needed to be sewn closed to heal more rapidly and ward off infection. The edges of the skin pulling apart from the barely-there scab looked a bit inflamed and red and they cleaned and disinfected his cut again.

After, they each lay back in the sand staring up at the sky, Jughead holding Betty’s hand though she was completely unaware.

“What the hell are we gonna do?” Veronica said after a while. “No one is coming for us. I… I’m worried this wasn’t as accidental as it seemed.”

From her left and right, both boys' heads rolled to watch her, their confusion visible.

“Daddy had always talked about having enemies. Archie told me the pilots were gone, we are thousands of miles off course and no one has come to rescue us. I think this was supposed to kill my father. I think- I think we’re stranded.”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, guys! I’m excited for the next few chapters sharing survival on the island and their changing dynamics!  
> Tumblr: @likemereckless  
> Many, many thanks to Jandy for her edits and support!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our faves realize they are not going to be rescued and plan for survival. Also, cute Bughead.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/192454274@N08/51010198772/in/album-72157718550812672/)

**Riverdale**

Hiram Lodge had made many devastating phone calls in his time and had been on the receiving end of hatred and backlash as well, but he had never experienced anything quite like the wrath of Alice Cooper. Their daughters had met in grade school and he was familiar with her fiery personality and explosive temperament, but this was the first time he was on the receiving end of it. Now she sat in his living room, along with Archie’s father, Fred, and Jughead’s father, FP, still livid. Hiram held up the bag of frozen peas to his eye and replayed how the whole mess went down.

He had personally called Fred after speaking with Alice to explain that the kids were missing and had asked Fred not to panic yet and to call Jughead’s father. Together they had traveled to Riverdale where he and Alice were already waiting. 

“Fred,” Hiram greeted him. “Nice to see you again… though not under these circumstances. And Mr. Jones-”

“It’s FP and you can cut the formalities,” FP snapped. “What the hell happened to my son and Archie?”

Hiram sighed and closed the door, gesturing them to the living room. “Please, sit. Can I get anyone a drink?”

“Hiram,” Fred said gently. “I know you love Veronica and I know the face of a worried parent when I see one. What’s going on?”

Hiram chuckled, though mirthlessly, and moved to stand by the mantle, too upset to sit. “Gentlemen, this is Alice Cooper, Betty’s mother. I believe you and Fred met at graduation.”

“Oh, what? Is that a dig because I didn’t show-” FP began, riled up in anger and nerves. Fred placed a hand on his shoulder, calming him down. He had dealt with the rough side of Jughead’s father for many years.

“Nice to see you again, Alice,” Fred offered. “Now, please. The kids…”

Hiram straightened his shoulders and stared at the floor, sucking in a deep breath before Regaining enough composure to speak. “I was supposed to be in Switzerland on business but decided to cancel at the last moment. I was trying to drive a hard bargain and force my partner’s hand and it seems he… he may have taken matters more personally than intended.”

“What are you- what does that have to do with the kids?” Fred asked. “Did he do something to them? Is that why we can’t get in touch with them?”

Hiram paused again, biting at his lip before glancing over at Alice, her eyes rimmed red after having already gone through this with him.

“I couldn’t get in contact with my pilot so I went to his house early this morning only to find both him and his wife bound and gagged. He told me that the plane was essentially hi-jacked and the intent was to… it was to be an attempt on my life.”

At that, Alice began to sob again, folding her face into her hands as Fred’s mouth dropped open just a tad, his heart pounding and his head whirling.

“Are- are you saying-”

“I don’t know,” Hiram whispered, his voice cracking. “We can’t locate the plane and they didn’t touch down in Switzerland. I-”

He didn’t get out another word as FP crossed the room and finished the sentence for him with a right hook to the face, his knuckles making crunching contact with his eye socket.

“FP!” Fred screamed. “What are you doing?”

“Our kids might be dead, Fred! All because of this piece of garbage and his snake-like business dealings!”

Holding his eye, Hiram had headed to the kitchen to grab some ice, which is where he stood now, listening to the others in the room adjacent.

“We don’t know that they are dead, FP,” Fred said softly. “I- I for one  _ can’t  _ walk around thinking that until we know for sure. I have to have hope that this is all a misunderstanding.”

“Fred, this is  _ his _ fault! How can you-”

Grateful for the calm demeanor of Mr. Andrews, Hiram re-entered the room. “It is my fault. You’re right. That’s why I’m leaving for Switzerland this afternoon on a company plane, my faithful pilot, Patrick, accompanying me. I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“We will,” Alice said forcefully, speaking for the first time. “If you think we aren’t all going with you then you’re absolutely mad. I’m going to find my daughter and her friends. Veronica is like a daughter to me also, Hiram. You can’t expect me to just sit here and-”

Fred sighed and folded his arms over his chest. “What about the black box? Doesn’t your plane have one so we can ping its location?”

“It does,” Hiram nodded. “But my flight seems to be nowhere in any air traffic control records, which should be impossible, but it’s not. Someone with a lot of connections had suppressed the information.”

FP bit at his thumb worriedly, fidgeting on the balls of his feet. “So we didn’t this guy and then we can maybe get the signal? Or better yet, he just knows where the kids are?

“That’s the idea,” Hiram sighed, unbuttoning the top button of his dress shirt as he saw Alice begin to file again.

“We should be there if you find them,” she cried. “If you find out they- they’re gone we should be there, not sitting here alone!”

“No, of course not,” Hiram replied, regretfully. “You’re right. You should come. You should… all come if you choose. You should be there if… when we find the kids.”

Alice nodded in satisfaction, her demeanor cold. “Then it’s settled. What time is the flight?”

.....

**Unknown Location**

Injured and exhausted, they had all fallen asleep, having not yet addressed Veronica’s fear. They each knew she was right and that they needed to start making plans and survival preparations, but they also needed rest for their injuries. Without a word, they all seemed to mentally table the talk in favor of a nap. Hours later, it was a soft moan that awoke them.

“Gross, you guys,” Jughead had gagged, glad he was facing away from his friends.

“Not us, bro,” Archie said groggily, sitting up from his slumber. “Even  _ I’m _ way too broken for that right now. I think it’s Betty.”

Jughead sat up quickly, steadying himself as he felt a bit dizzy and let his eyes drift over to where she lay on the sand. She didn’t look well. Her skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and her pulse was visibly racing in her throat. Jughead maneuvered his way to her side and placed a palm upon her forehead.

“She’s burning up,” he said, glancing at them worriedly. “We need to get her out of the sun and hydrate her. Maybe clean her wounds again.”

“What’s going on?” Veronica mumbled, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

“Betty has a fever… possibly an infection,” Archie shared. “We don’t really know-”

“Now, Arch!” Jughead snapped. “We can talk later, but we need to cool her down now!”

If this were any other situation or any other circumstance, Archie probably would have yelled at his friend to chill. But he could see the desperation on Jughead’s face plain as day. Archie knew Jughead loved Betty, the same way he loved Veronica. He was just too chicken and self-deprecating to do anything about it. Rather than snap back, he grabbed Betty’s legs to help Jughead move her, his arm still unable to lift her weight alone without the risk of dislocating again.

They made it to the edge of the trees where the thick grouping of palms began and offered some shade from the heat of the sun.

“I’ll soak a shirt in some water,” Veronica offered. “It’s not ice cold, but it’s cooler than the air I suppose.”

Jughead nodded in thanks as Veronica took off towards the water, resting his back against a tree and letting Betty’s head and upper body rest on his lap. Archie made himself busy, grabbing their medical supplies to help clean her wound again.

Stripping back the bandages, he cleaned her cuts with water and alcohol, applying clean bandages after Veronica lay wet strips of cloth on her head and neck to cool her down. The cool of the water and sting of the whiskey stirred her a bit from her fever dreams and she began to talk, though quite delirious.

“V?” Betty mumbled, limply lifting her arm to Jughead’s face. “How’d I get on your lap? Did we drink too much again?”

“It’s Jug, Betts,” he laughed softly, brushing some hair from her face, trying to keep the strain from his voice.

“Is Juggie okay, V? Is he hurt?” Betty replied, eyes still closed and fluttering rapidly beneath their lids. It was clear she was confused and unaware of her surroundings.

“He’s okay,” Jughead replied, gently. “Why don’t you just rest. You’re sick, Betts, and you need to sleep.”

“You’ll take care of Juggie for me?” Betty asked meekly, her breathing shallow.

“I’ll take care of him and you, both,” Jughead promised.

Betty got quiet for a while before gripping his arm tightly and opening her eyes. “V,” she whispered. “Don’t tell Juggie that I love him, okay? If I wake up not dead I want to tell him and kiss his beautiful face. This couch is so lumpy, V. I’m so tired.”

At her fever-driven confession, Jughead sucked in a quick intake of breath as Veronica and Archie graciously averted their eyes, suddenly making themselves busy to afford the other pair some privacy, but not  _ too  _ far away where they still couldn't hear. He knew what they were thinking: there was a distinct possibility she might not wake up again- not if her body was unable to fight off whatever was attacking her system. This may be their only moment for heartfelt confessions and Betty didn’t even know where she was.

“Hey, Betts,” Jughead choked out, his cheeks wet and not from the droplets of sweat that had beaded on his forehead in the morning sun. “It’s Jug now. Veronica had to go.”

“Jug,” Betty shivered. “I’m so cold. Can you hold me?”

He tightened his arms around her and rubbed at her arms, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Jug, I told V not to tell Juggie I love him. Don’t tell him either, ‘kay?”

“I won’t,” Jughead chuckled again, sniffing and wiping at his nose as he did so. “But I think he already knows, Betts. And... he loves you, too. So much.

In seven years he had imagined every scenario where he would say those words to her. Eight letters that would change his life. This scenario never popped into his mind. Never did he think he would utter that phrase for the first time when it could quite possibly also be the last time. When it played out in his head, his voice was emotional, but the way he choked it out now mingled with the growing lump in his throat wasn't quite the type of emotion he had imagined. Betty settled into his arms, her pulse still racing but her body sinking back into sleep. His mind raced. Had she heard him? Did she know? 

“Jug?” Archie said softly, drawing him from his thoughts. “Ronnie and I are going to search the plane for food. It’s been over a day since we’ve eaten and we need to see what supplies we have.

“Hmmm,” was all he hummed in reply, unable to tear his eyes away from Betty.

“You should eat. Do you want to-”

“I’m not leaving her,” Jughead choked out. “If she- she shouldn’t… if something happens she shouldn’t be alone.”

Archie stared down at them for a moment, Jughead cradling her against him and cleared his throat. He couldn’t even offer words of comfort because the reality here was grim and stark. “Yeah. Of course. We’ll bring you something.”

As Archie wrapped an arm around Veronica’s shoulders, they headed off towards the plane, Veronica looking back as she cried until they were too far from sight to see clearly.

“Hey you,” Jughead whispered tearfully, letting his thumb stroke at Betty’s cheek. “If you can hear me, keep fighting in there. It’s not your time yet, Betts. It’s  _ our  _ time. And we need more of it together. So much more. I love you, so fight. Fight for me.”

He sat that way for hours, the feeling all but gone from his legs. Archie and Veronica spent the afternoon gathering salvageable supplies off the plane, bringing him water and a snack at some point. They had also changed her dressings twice more and sat and talked to Betty, holding her hand and telling her stories, all the while Jughead refused to move her from his lap. She did awake or speak again. As night approached he lay back in the sand, pulling her head onto his chest and begging the fates for a second chance.

…..

**Geneva, Switzerland**

To say the plane ride was awkward was an understatement. FP paced for the majority of the nine-hour flight while Fred sat by Alice and Hiram, staring out the window, silently sipping a beer. Alice, up in arms and full of anxiety, had spent most of the nine hours talking, sharing stories about Betty, or questioning Hiram on his business dealings. When she became agitated with his lack of response, she had moved onto Fred and FP, talking their ears off instead. He suddenly wished he hadn’t left Hermione home, crying in bed and loaded up on Diazepam.

“Are you married, Fred?” Alice asked, trying to make small talk to keep her mind off things.

“I am,” he replied. “Twenty-seven fabulous years. Mary is in Atlanta on a case right now. I haven’t even told her yet. I don’t want to worry her when she can’t even call me for updates during the day. I’ll call her when we...know something.”

Alice hummed before turning her eyes towards FP. “And what about you? Is there a Mrs. Jones?”

“There was,” he answered, sipping at his drink. “There is. Hell if I know where she is, or if she’s even alive. She took off years back and left me with Jug and Jellybean, my daughter. Haven’t heard from her since.”

“That must have been hard on you,” Alice said, sincerely.

“Must have been hard having a serial killer for a husband, too,” he snapped back, disliking her prying into his personal life. “I’ve heard the kids talk.”

“How- how  _ dare  _ you take a dig at me like that!” Alice seethed. “I was trying to be polite and keep our minds  _ off  _ of death and you have to go and-”

“Alice,” Hiram called. “Come and sit. Everyone sit. Our nerves are high and this won’t do us any good.”

With a final dirty look at FP, Alice took her seat and so did FP.

“We need to strategize what to do once we get to Geneva. Elias knows me, but he may not take kindly to an army infiltrating his home. Perhaps I should go alone.”

FP and Alice were about to scream when Fred interrupted. “No,” he declared swiftly. “You know, I always wondered what kind of businessman you were. Archie said that he stayed out of the family business and that Veronica liked it that way. I always wondered why. Now, I don’t know what kind of shady dealings you and Elias had, and quite frankly, I don’t give a damn. But I’m going to be there when you question him as to what happened to our kids.”

“Mr. Lodge, guests,” Patrick’s voice sounded over the intercom. “You need to take your seats and buckle in. We are beginning our descent into Geneva.”

Buckling their belts, Fred continued to stare down Hiram, the others eyeing the showdown warily, until Hiram finally conceded.

“Very well,” he agreed. “We will all go see Elias. You’re right. You have the right to be involved as much as I am at this point. Our children are all in peril.”

…..

**Unknown Location**

The sun peeking through the palm branches left an array of shadows over the sand, a few tiny streams of light poking through and brushing against Betty’s face. It was the light that stirred her. Poking her head up, she saw that she was sprawled across Jughead’s chest, her gray ski hat propped under his head like a pillow in the sand. It was only appropriate that he use it. She had bought it because it reminded her of the old one he used to wear in college that used to aggravate Veronica to no end.

She began to push up from atop him and his arm swooped up from where it had fallen, pulling her in closer to his side. “Sleep, Betts,” he mumbled, only to have his eyes shoot open. “Betty? You- you're awake!”

“I am,” she smiled, nodding very confused. “Should I not be?”

As Betty sat up, wincing at the pull and sting in her ribs, Jughead sat up behind her, pulling her face down to press a fierce kiss to her forehead. “You had a fever all day and night, Betty. We weren’t sure if you were going to make it.”

Betty grappled with a response for a moment, realizing how close she had come to death, now more than once in the past thirty-six hours. “I would never let you get rid of me, Juggie. Who would proofread your novel and keep you in character?” she teased, opting for humor.

Normally Jughead would offer up a similar retort, laced with sarcasm and dripping in jokes, but the actual experience of almost losing her had left him raw and emotional. He had no room for humor at the moment.

“I never want to get rid of you, Betts,” Jughead murmured genuinely. “Betty, I-”

“She’s awake!” Veronica screeched, darting across the sand and falling to her side, hugging her a bit too tightly.

“Ouch, V,” she hissed. “Broken ribs, remember?”

“Girl, I can’t forget. I will forever have nightmares about stitching you closed,” she joked. “But you truly scared us last night. I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared in my life.”

Frustrated that his moment was interrupted, Jughead’s sarcasm came back in full force. “That’s because you were unconscious when the plane crashed. That would have ranked up there in scary moments.”

“Betty,” Archie grinned. “You can't play with our hearts like that. We’re all a little fragile here.”

Betty cleared her throat and offered up a smile for Archie as well, her voice hoarse and dry. “I’ll try to be more careful next time I fall from a plane, Arch.”

Upon hearing her raspiness Jughead fumbled to grab a bottle of water he had left at his side the previous night, having taken only sparing, small sips to conserve what they had.

“Drink,” he urged, holding it up to her lips carefully and tipping it just barely to allow little bits to trickle in at once, not wanting to overwhelm her.

“Thank you, Jug,” Betty blushed, bashfully. “Not only do you hydrate me but it appears as if you were also my sleep cushion last night.”

Veronica grinned wickedly and Jughead shot her a look.

“What?” Betty questioned, her face lit up in curiosity.

“Nothing,” Veronica said flippantly. “Jughead just took very good care of you all night. In fact, we couldn’t pry him from your side. We didn’t think you’d pull through but he never faltered.”

Jughead glared at his raven-haired friend and looked down into the sand, embarrassed, only to have his cheek upturned again as Betty slid her palm across it and drew her eyes to his own.

“Thank you,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

Jughead grabbed her palm where it rested on his cheek and pressed a kiss there, long and lingering. “Never,” he promised.

The moment was so tender that Archie almost felt like a voyeur bearing witness. Kicking at the sand he drew their attention to where he stood.

“Not to ruin… whatever this is, but we need to have a serious discussion about our plans here. It’s been two days and no one has come. Ronnie and I salvaged supplies that were scattered along the beach, but we’re going to need a plan.”

“Tell us what you need,” Betty rasped out.

Archie sat down in the shade of the trees with them, reclining back against a tree for support. Veronica had been cleaning his burns and Betty’s aloe and lavender oil had been helping a ton, but they were still fresh and pulled at his tight skin each time he moved.

“We found enough water to last about a week with the way we’ve been drinking and cleaning wounds. After that we’re going to need to find a source of clean water on this island,” he explained. “Same goes for food, but there’s only a few day’s worth of granola energy bars and other snacks, nothing of substance to keep our energy up. Thank goodness Jughead packed his own snacks in his suitcase.”

Jughead grinned and waggled his eyebrows at Betty, making her laugh. “See? My bottomless pit of a stomach has saved our asses, for now.”

Betty bit her lip as she grinned back and Veronica shot Jughead a meaningful look from behind Betty’s back that he ignored.

“Ronnie and I figured that we could use the plane for shelter and sleeping. That’s where we stored all of our supplies for now. Ron tried to clean it up also and gathered as many cushions as we could find for bedding.”

Jughead looked over at the plane and the giant hole in its side before turning back to Archie. “That idea will work in the interim, but we are in the tropics and if we get a good storm with high winds and waves, that plane is too close to the water. We could flood and lose everything. Plus just a regular storm with rain will soak us with the side open.”

“Then what do you suggest?” Veronica asked, playing with a palm leaf and tearing little bits off piece by piece.

“We build shelters, close enough to the shore that we can see if anyone comes for us, but far enough back where the waves won’t reach. Maybe right here by the tree line. Even if they are just a back-up for if there’s a storm. Arch and I should be able to manage to build something.”

Archie looked around at the trees and nodded. He could work with what was available. Between the sharp fragments of metal and Jughead’s pocket knife, they could create some crude huts to live in for now.

“Start the shelters,” Betty agreed, her voice stronger now. “But we should hike out and look for food and water first thing tomorrow morning. We can use the plane to sleep if we need to, but we can’t manifest water out of thin air.”

They all agreed on the plan and to set out at first light. Jughead had protested that Betty was in no state to walk through an uncharted jungle, but she stared him down claiming they were, under no circumstances, separating. Not wanting to agitate her he had agreed on the basis that she spent the rest of the day resting and getting used to walking with an island-made crutch and brace for her injured leg. 

While Betty recouped, the boys gathered supplies- downed trees, dried out palm, and other useful material. Their labor was slow, working with fractures and other injuries, but it needed to be done. As night began to fall, they had only managed to salvage half of what they would need.

Crashing down onto the beach where Betty and Veronica sat, stitching together palm leaves they had retrieved throughout the day to create roofing and floor mats for the huts once ready.

“Gilligan and Skipper here,” Jughead said as he and Archie crashed down next to Betty, rubbing at his leg and tossing the makeshift crutch to the side. “Tomorrow we build  _ actual _ crutches before we go exploring. That thing is killing my shoulders.”

“Which are you?” Betty giggled. “Because I feel like you’d be more like the professor than Gilligan or Skipper.”

“I’d be Ginger,” Veronica said as if it were obvious. “And Betty would  _ definitely _ be Mary Ann. She and the professor had a secret thing, you know.”

Betty flushed as she finished the leaf she was sewing, putting the string of leaves to the side she had strung together, wincing as she moved.

“Should you be doing so much?” Jughead asked softly, resting his palm on her knee. “You don’t want to start bleeding again.”

Betty rolled her eyes and patted the hand on her knee. “I appreciate your concern, Jug. Truly. But people have surgery and get stitches all the time and function. You guys are all working and I need to do my part also. None of us should be doing any of this with fractures, broken ribs, and concussions but we really don’t have a choice unless we want to die.”

“I think we get a little slack if we take breaks,” Archie reasoned. “We did just defy odds and survived a plane crash.”

Veronica rose up suddenly and jogged over to the suitcase she had nearby, pulling out four granola bars from the bag. “Speaking of defying odds, I think it would definitely defy odds if these filled us, but one each is dinner until we find food tomorrow.”

They were lucky that Hiram stocked protein bars for his travels and that the cases were safely in the below-cabin storage which had been unscathed in the crash. They provided nutrients they needed but did little to fill their growling stomachs. 

Grinning, Veronica grabbed Archie’s hand and pulled him up, tugging him down the beach towards the plane as the sun began to set, casting a pink and orange glow over the sky and sea.

“And where do you two think you’re going?” Jughead called as Archie waved goodbye.

“Friday date night!” Veronica yelled. “Just because we’re stranded doesn’t mean we have to break tradition!”

“No baby making!” Jughead called back, teasing. “I am  _ not  _ delivering a ginger human on this island!”

“It’s all good! I have an implant!” Veronica teased, grinning wickedly. “Bettykins does, too! Have fun, kids!”

Betty’s eyes widened in shock and her jaw dropped before quickly closing at how open and divulging Veronica had been. Peeking over at Jughead she found him to be a shade of pink as well and she didn’t think she could blame the sunset.

“So…” Betty said, unwrapping her dinner.

“So…” he echoed, turning towards her and wincing at the pull in his neck.

“You really overdid it today, Jug,” Betty warned, scooting herself over until she was behind him. “I know we need to get things done, but you’re injured too and you need to be careful.”

Unexpectedly, she brought her hands up to his neck and began to work out the kinks there, Jughead jumping at the first contact.

“What are you-”

“Relax and let me take care of you.”

He dropped his shoulders and opened his meal as Betty worked at his neck, digging her thumbs into his shoulder blades and rubbing up and down his neck as they ate quietly. It was a comfortable silence, filled with his sighs of contentment as Betty eased each of his knots. When her hands were cramping from the effort, she let them drop, leaning over to rest her head on his shoulder.

“Better?” she asked, rubbing up and down his arms.

“Much,” he sighed. “Thank you. Now swap spots with me and lay back. Your ribs must be throbbing.”

He was right. They were. At that moment she would kill for Ibuprofen but she supposed she was lucky enough to even be standing so she wouldn’t complain. She scooted her way back up before him and he lay back against a tree, pulling her back right against his chest. This was the second time today she found herself in that position and she had to say she liked it. 

It wasn’t that they had never hugged, or that she had never jumped on top of him, especially after a night of drinking. But sober cuddling like this, where his fingers drew little circles on her forearms causing goosebumps to rise up on her skin, was a shift in their usual behavior. 

“The sunset is beautiful here,” he mumbled against her ear. “It almost makes you forget, for just a minute, how dire things are.”

“What if things weren’t bad,” Betty whispered, tipping her head back to look up at him. “What if we were just on vacation somewhere beautiful. No fractured bones, no stitched up wounds, no threat of starvation or exposure. What would we do?”

Jughead looked back out at the water as his hands continued their feather-light traces up and down her skin. “Well we’d definitely be at an all-inclusive and I’d have eaten half the buffet by now.”

Betty laughed and just as soon regretted it, grabbing her ribs and halting her giggles. “No making me laugh, Jug. I might bust a stitch and bleed out on the sand here.”

“Right,” Jughead agreed. “No more humor. Maybe just some other happier ideas.”

“I like happy,” Betty sighed, still bracing her hand against her wound.

“Happy then,” he agreed. “Well, if this were a vacation, we’d probably leave Veronica and Archie by the pool and go explore the town nearby or some ancient ruins. I’d follow you around saying ‘fun fact’ all day until you finally cracked and threw my tour book in the trash.”

Betty bit her lip and grinned, all warm and content. He was intentionally leaving their friends out of plans as if they were on vacation alone. “What next?”

“After dinner, you’d insist on drinks. We’d get something tropical and fruity that I would definitely regret afterward and then maybe a walk along the beach to look at the stars.”

“Then what? Dancing? Night swim? Sleep?”

“I think just some talking, kind of like this. Just sitting on the beach and talking. We’d have fallen asleep there, peaceful. The next day we’d crash by the pool and take a real nap in an actual bed, but when anyone asked about the best night of vacation it would be that one.”

The sun had sunk below the sea and the beach was darker now, the shadows affording him more bravery than he had ever mustered up before.

“I almost lost you yesterday, Betty,” Jughead breathed softly, placing a kiss on her shoulder.

Betty allowed her hand to rise up, rubbing against his cheek that pressed itself into her own. She felt a shift between them, a crash of boundaries dropping away, ones they had both carefully constructed over the last seven years.

“I’m still here, Jug,” she promised. “You didn’t let that happen.”

With a heavy sigh, he pressed a kiss onto her palm and settled back against the tree again. They sat quietly for a long while until her breath began to heavy.

Jughead stood and helped her to her feet, tugging her towards the plane. “Come on. Let’s get some sleep.”

They made their way to the plane and he helped her down onto a cushion, the descent to the floor difficult for her with her stitches, before checking her dressings and applying some antiseptic to the stitches again. When he was done he pressed a kiss to her rib before heading to grab his own cushion. Immediately she missed his touch, his warmth, but she didn’t need to miss it too long. Jughead dropped his cushion next to her own and she felt his chest press up against her back.

Betty turned to her side and cuddled up on his chest, sighing when his arms wrapped tight around her.

“Night, Juggie,” she mumbled into his shoulder, smiling as she tilted her chin up to kiss his own.

“Night, Betty. Sweet dreams.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks SO much for reading and leaving comments guys! It makes my day! I can’t wait to share what trials and triumphs they encounter on the Island!
> 
> Many thanks to Jandy for her edits and super support!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our faves adjust to life on the island and find means to survive.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/192454274@N08/51010198772/in/album-72157718550812672/)

“What if I told you that damage doesn't define you and the way you survive is no one else's business?”-Nikita Gill

**  
Unknown Location**

They woke with the sunrise, a habit quite different from their sleeping norms at home. Archie and Veronica had made their way back to the plane much later the night before and had cuddled up on the other side of the cabin, no doubt to give their friends privacy. Jughead was roused first, the sun streaming in where the metal walls of the plane had been pried open and the beach was clearly visible, another beautiful day brewing in paradise.

“Hey,” Betty whispered, feeling him stir below her. “How did you sleep?”

“Good,” Jughead smiled. “I’m a bit stiff but I’d say that it was worth it to wake up next to you.”

Betty flushed and tucked her head under his chin, letting her hand rest against his chest as they cuddled.

“Awww, Archiekins,” Veronica sighed. “Aren’t they just adorable? You never say such cute stuff about me anymore. Is the thrill gone already?”

Jughead bit his lip in annoyance. Leave it to Veronica to ruin a perfectly fabulous moment. Clearly embarrassed, Betty began to dislodge herself from his embrace and shifted back to her own cushion to sit.

“Maybe he would if _you_ weren’t always talking,” Jughead snapped back, turning to offer her glare as she grinned at him happily.

They rose right after, each devouring their breakfast ration, another energy bar, before treating each of their wounds, keeping them clean, and changing the bandages. It was becoming a bit of a daily routine, followed up by washing themselves with seawater.

“I’d kill for a bath,” Veronica sighed. “Or a shower, or freshwater…”

“That is the goal of today,” Archie agreed. “Find water and food so we don’t die.”

After washing up Betty limped her way across the sand to the tree line where Jughead was hammering away. The process seemed to be awkward and long as he used his left hand rather than his right where his shoulder had been dislocated. After only a few days he had already begun to tan, the tropical sun adding a golden glow to his shirtless form.

“What are you building, Jug?” Betty asked as she hobbled over.

He had taken a thin tree limb and affixed it to the appropriate size, cutting another small piece to sit atop it. With his knife, Jughead had carved a harder type of wood from another nearby tree into a point, using it to stake the two pieces together, a rock serving as his mallet. When the pieces were firmly attached he wrapped a t-shirt around the wood and demonstrated his new crutch.

“And just like that no more armpit splinters,” he grinned, admiring his own handiwork. “I’ll make you one later.”

“Can I use your old splinter crutch for now?” she inquired. “I need something to help support me today.”

Archie and Veronica joined them, Archie with a small carry-on backpack filled with supplies for the trek.

“Yeah, thought about it more last night and you should stay here,” Jughead stated, earning a glare from Betty.

“I’m not an invalid-”

“No, you aren’t," Jughead agreed. “But you also are in no shape for this! You and Veronica can-” 

“Uh uh,” Archie snapped. “No way, Jug. I’m sorry, but there is no way I’m leaving Veronica here alone when we don’t know who or what could be on this island. And if she’s right and this was sabotage, what if they realize the job wasn’t finished and come to do just that. No way. Ronnie stays with me, at least until we survey the area more thoroughly.”

Jughead pursed his lips but saw his friend was staunch in his declaration. Archie made sense. Plenty of it actually, but he was still worried the hike would take its toll on Betty.”

“Juggie,” Betty warbled. “I know you’re worried but I really don’t want to be here alone.”

Jughead cursed under his breath. He could deny her nothing. He was worried about possible rugged terrain or dangers they may cross, but he couldn’t leave her there, afraid and alone.

“Fine,” he conceded. “But I’m making you a crutch before we go.”

…..

An hour after they had agreed to all explore, they finally headed out. The hunger pangs in their stomachs were all too real with their meals minute and snacks unavailable. Without finding a source of food, there was no way they’d survive long on the island. As it were, their already sore muscles ached due to dehydration since they each only sipped just enough water to maintain themselves. They had used far too much of their stock cleaning out wounds and desperately needed to find freshwater immediately.

They were only five minutes into their walk and completely exhausted. Without a machete, hacking their way through the thick jungle was laborious and tiresome, leaves and limbs slapping at them as they passed through and bugs biting at their skin the farther in they trod. Archie’s burns enabled him from moving at his top performance while Jughead and Betty both relied heavily on crutches. This left Veronica in the lead, using a large branch to push their way through.

“So, where do you think we are?” Archie asked as they hiked, pushing back branch after branch.

Veronica shrugged, cringing as she stepped through the mud.

“I have theories,” Betty said, already a bit out of breath. “Based on our time in the air and the climate, I’ve been theorizing. I was hoping to find clues and iron it out for sure today.”

“Care to share these theories with the class, Carmen San Diego?” Jughead teased, offering Betty a sip of his water. Gratefully, she accepted before continuing.

“Well, with eleven hours air-time, at first I thought we could be near the Hawaiian islands. When no tour boats passed anywhere nearby I began to doubt that, but you never know. We could have also been on an island off of Greece, but the foliage doesn’t seem right for that. I also thought we could be off the coast of Chile, on a South American island.”

They all examined her, impressed she had put so much thought into their exact whereabouts. While they had all known they were off course, the rigors of the past few days hadn’t allowed much time for deep thought in regards to their location.

“What?” Betty asked as they all just stared. “I had a lot of time to think while stitching together palm leaves.”

“Maybe we’ll get a hint today if your theories are right, Betts,” Jughead shared. “Though whenever we are, I hope it’s not for much longer.”

They walked quietly after that. Blanketed in the thick jungle the heat was oppressive and breathing was difficult. Veronica was just about to say so when she stopped short, screaming as she all but climbed onto Archie, standing on his feet so her own were no longer touching the ground. Giant cockroaches, about three-and-a-half inches long, congregated on the ground, crawling one over the other in an intrusion.

“Oh hell no!” Veronica cried. “I signed up for the leisurely hike through a tropical paradise! Not the Fear Factor tour!”

They all looked at the swirling mass before them. There must have been hundreds of them, mingling there in the dirt.

“We have to go over them,” Jughead reasoned, shaking his head. “The jungle is too thick on either side. This is the least dense pathway and we need to stay on it.”

Every fifty feet or so, Jughead had been drawing a red ‘X’ on a tree with a tube of Veronica’s lipstick. They had fought about it in great length before leaving.

“There is no way you’re using my seventy-dollar Hermés lipstick to draw on some foliage!” she had spat in a complete rage.

“Why?” Jughead had yelled back, recoiling a bit as she ripped the tube from his hands. “Do you have a gala to attend on the other side of the island that we aren’t invited to?”

“It’s Hermés, Jughead!” she yelled even louder as if it would make him understand why she was so angry. “Hermés!”

Archie shook his head and took the tube from his fiancé’s fingers, handing it back to Jughead. To give him credit, he hadn’t even flinched when she had slapped his chest. He knew it was coming.

“Ron,” Archie reasoned. “We need to mark our path or we could be lost in there for days. All of our supplies are here. I _know_ you have more of this stuff at home and I know you don’t care about wasting this tube.”

Veronica sighed, her shoulders drooping and her face embarrassed. “You’re right. I- it’s fine. Putting on lipstick and eyeshadow in the morning and my stupid pearls make me feel a bit less like I’m stranded is all. But you’re right. We need to find our way home and that _is_ waterproof.”

Now, she looked horrified again, mostly from the news that they had to step _through_ the cockroach minefield. To lighten the moment, Jughead marked the tree “Cockroach Corner,” with the lipstick before returning the tube to his pocket.

“You first, Jug,” Betty gagged out, watching the insects squirm.

Jughead wrinkled his face up in disgust and looked at Betty. “I thought we were _friends_ ! I thought you _liked_ me. Why do you seek to sacrifice me to the insect-Gods first, Betts?”

Betty shrugged and urged him forward. “Your feet are the biggest. You’ll squish more.”

Tossing Betty a dirty look Jughead stared down at the infestation before himself and resisted the urge to vomit

“Be manly,” he murmured to himself, quite unconvincingly as he took his first step, the bugs piling up above his ankles. He was absurdly grateful to be wearing pants at the moment despite the temperature. The crunch of a few insects beneath his feet caused him to blanch and hurry over their dwelling, cringing as he did so.

“That was the most detestable, loathsome, abhorrent, gut-churning thing I’ve ever seen,” Veronica grimaced. 

“Yikes,” Jughead frowned. “And you’ve seen Arch naked.”

“They crunch when you step on them!” she continued, staring down at the offending creatures.

“Well of course they do,” Jughead laughed. “What did you think would happen? A magical eruption of glitter?

Veronica shook her head and waved her arms wildly, searching for the right words. “I don’t know! Squish? I mean, look at me! I’m Park Avenue, not jungle savvy.”

Jughead perused her, taking in her appearance. “I mean, right now…”

“Enough, you two,” Betty sighed. “I’m hungry, and sore, and shaky and I just want to find what we need. Let’s just get this over with.”

Betty crossed over, lips wrinkled up in repugnance, but she made it all the same. Archie followed, and after a long dispute from his fiancé, and despite his burns, managed to cross while holding her.

They had just passed the cockroaches when Archie began to smile wildly, pointing up at the trees and laughing. 

“Look!” he cried. “Tiny coconuts! How cute are those little babies?”

While a Jughead shook his head at Archie, Veronica looked up at the tree and began to cry. “Those are like baby coconuts, Archiekins. Those are coquitos nuts!”

“Are they edible?” Betty asked excitedly, now staring up at the trees as well.

Veronica smiled wider and pressed her hands together in prayer, looking up towards the sky. “They are fruit and we can eat them raw or cooked,” she explained. “You have to crack them open like a coconut and they taste a bit almond-like.”

“Chile!” Betty yelled in triumph, laughing as they all turned to her. “We have to be near Chile! I was right!”

“Just a bit off course, then,” Jughead teased as he and Archie began to harvest some of the coquitos from the tree. When they had collected a decent amount, they used Jughead’s knife and a nearby rock to break them open, reveling in the taste of the fresh food as the crisp fruit touched their tongue. It wouldn’t sustain them forever, but at least it was a start. Over the next hour, they also found murta, Chilean rhubarb, maqui, chauchau berries, and calafate. They weren’t pomologists and were unsure if all the berries were edible. They decided to leave some out to see if any wildlife grazed on them.

Hours had passed as they walked in relative silence. They had encountered a few unpleasant obstacles, such as a gathering of snakes in a grove of trees and lizards the size of a cocker spaniel. Archie had sung for a while, trying to pass the time and distract them and the girls humored him for a few minutes, attempting to harmonize. In the end, they were too tired and breathless even for that. 

All four of them had grown up in suburbia, though Jughead’s path had steered his family to the more venomous underbelly of suburban life. Besides a hike through a local state park or a camping trip at a designated camping area, none of them had ever been subjected to this difficulty of the terrain. Though it felt like they had walked forever, they had only made it a little over a mile when they finally heard the sound of rushing water, growing louder as they walked towards the left side of the island and the rock embankments there.

“Do you guys hear that?” Archie asked, hoping it wasn’t some form of auditory mirage, the sound of running water imagined by a dehydrated man.

“I do,” Veronica breathed out, her voice laced with tears. 

The four looked between each other smiling like crazy before taking off at top speed, Betty and Jughead lagging behind with their crutches. Another fifty-feet through the lush forest, a wide clearing opened to a pristine, crystal clear stream, a towering waterfall cascading down the rocks and into the water below. When Jughead and Betty had caught up they found their friends standing on a slate-black rock, staring out over the water in awe. The silence other than the rain of the waterfall was peaceful and was only broken by their infectious laughter.

“We’re saved!” Veronica cried out happily. “We’re actually not going to die.”

Archie pulled off his shirt, ready to cannonball in as Veronica uncapped her water bottle, their dreams dashed by one word from Betty’s lips.

“Wait,” Betty urged them. “We need to think this through.”

Archie stared at her, adrenaline pumping with the excitement of what he considered a victory. “What is there to think about? It’s water, Betty.”

“It is,” she agreed, albeit hesitantly. “But we don’t know what’s in it. Now, most likely it’s fine, the waterfall is churning it and it’s not stagnant. It must drain somewhere out to the sea. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t bacteria in there that we could ingest or that could get in our wounds.”

They all stared at Betty, frustration, and anger evident on their faces. Even Jughead looked worse for wear and fed-up with everything, though he had to admit her logic was sound in its reasoning.

“So what?” Archie snapped. “We walked all the way here to find water we won’t use? News flash, Betty! We don’t have a water kit with us! We can’t call public health or, I don’t know, the CDC or whoever!”

Betty clenched her jaw and pursed her lips, her hand balling into a fist. She was hot, thirsty, exhausted, and in pain and she knew Archie was as well so she tried not to take his outburst personally.

“I understand your anger, Arch,” Betty said steadily, though she wanted to scream. “I want to jump in there, clean off and drink half the damn stream myself. But we have come this far and need to be sure.”

Archie looked as if he were ready to tell again when Jughead stepped in. “And how do we do that, Betty? I suppose you have a plan?”

Betty offered but one dramatic and swift nod of her head, too tired for more. “We sit and eat and we wait.”

“We wait?” Jughead repeated. “We wait for what?”

“We wait concealed for an animal or something to come and drink from the stream. I saw prints along the way here. I couldn’t identify them, but they were prints just the same. If we wait, something will come to drink from the water.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Veronica asked worriedly.

“And if it doesn’t, it’s most likely contaminated. We can come back over the next few days if we need but-”

“It’s a good plan,” Archie relented. “I’m sorry I snapped, Betty-”

“It’s alright, Arch,” she assured him, her voice heavy and soft. “You don’t need to explain. I know.”

After surveying the areas briefly, they found a spot close by the waterfall where the rock was carved back, almost like a small cave, but not very deep. Betty figured they could watch from there, but the cascading water would drown out their voices enough so they didn’t have to sit in silence. No sooner had they sat down and rested their belongings had the guys decided to leave. They wanted to gather as much food as possible to take back with them later and figured there was no time like the present. Betty and Veronica were tasked with watching the water, waiting for any sign it was safe to consume.

“Be safe,” Veronica purred, unhappy that he was leaving her sight. Archie offered her a sweet kiss and a promise to return safely. 

From under her lashes, Betty eyed Jughead. She was surprised to find him looking up at her as he bent over, removing a few items from the bag he had carried to make room for what he gathered. Bashfully, he gazed back down at the rock below him until he saw two navy blue converse sneakers appear before him. Dragging his eyes upward, he found Betty closer now, swinging her arms back and forth, nervously rocking on the balls of her feet.

“Don’t let Archie pick anything strange,” she smiled, biting at her lip to suppress a smile at the thought. “I could see him accidentally discovering the world’s first giant man-eating plant.”

Jughead chuckled and nodded along with the thought, standing before slinging the bag over his shoulder. “If he does, I'm not jumping in after him to save his ass.”

“Yes,” Betty grinned. “Yes, you are. You are far too noble to leave him to get chewed to pieces, Jughead Jones.”

Jughead’s cheeks tinted pink as he rubbed at the back of his neck. Somewhere behind them Archie and Veronica were still saying their goodbyes. The dynamic on the island somehow made everything seem more intimate as if they were each there to care for one another. With no guarantee they would survive to see another day, each exchange seemed heightened and important. Even Jughead felt more confident, partly due to the fact that they could die, but mostly from Betty’s fever-induced confession of love. With their survival at the forefront of his mind, and Betty’s need to recuperate, he hadn’t addressed his feelings with her yet, but he couldn’t wait much longer.

“You wouldn’t want me to be eaten by a giant plant?” Jughead teased, grabbing Betty’s fingers and letting them slip through his own, playing with the tips and tugging her in closer.

“A panther or a jaguar maybe,” Betty bantered. “But what kind of story would it be if I had to tell a newspaper upon our rescue that you were eaten by a shrub. Plus, I _think_ I’d miss you, despite your aptitude for facetiousness.”

Jughead’s lips tugged into a half-grin as he chortled, his smirk a bit too debonair and enticing for Betty to handle as he leaned in closer to place a kiss at the corner of her mouth, the same spot where she had let her lips linger on his own face when he had awoken from her sleep the other morning. She sucked in a breath of air, his name hitching in her throat as he pulled back slowly, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles. 

“I’ll be fine, Betts,” he promised. “I’ll be gone and back so fast you won’t even have time to miss me.” With a flirtatious wink, he turned and joined Archie, the two heading back into the brush as Betty stood dumbfounded, positive her own heartbeat was louder than the waterfall.

…..

**Geneva, Switzerland**

Snow blanketed the ground and the whole city was alive, trees lit up and twinkling in white for the holidays. The air was chilled, a frigid thirty-one degrees, and minuscule snowflakes hung in the air, gently swaying to the ground and sticking in hit and eyelashes. If the circumstances weren’t so dire, it was a place they would have loved to explore.

Immediately upon landing, they had insisted Hiram take them to Elias. He had suggested waiting until morning and checking into their lodging accommodations, but his travel companions had strong-armed him into going there at once. They had stopped briefly at a cafe to grab coffee for warmth before the transportation Hiram had arranged arrived.

“What do we need to know about this man?” Alice had asked as they were en route. “If he’s slimy enough to order your assassination should we be prepared for the possibility of an altercation!”

Hiram considered her words with a tilt of his head, weighing the validity of her words. “As far as we know, Elias thinks that I’m dead. There’s a good chance we have the element of surprise. He won’t be prepared for this and he doesn’t have the stomach to commit murder on his own without a middle-man.”

Alice quirked her eyebrow and reached into her purse, pulling out a handgun and holding it up before them. “Well just in case, I came prepared.”

“Jesus, Alice!” 

“Hot dogs and Krispie treats!”

“Hot, Blondie. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

Alice rolled her eyes and the chorus of responses to her concealed weapon. If there was one positive to private travel it was being able to sneak past security more easily. They barely paid any attention in the private sector.

“Better safe than sorry I always say,” Alice smiled, tucking the pistol back into her purse. “I didn’t fly all the way here just to be taken out by a disgruntled suit.”

Hiram looked forward at the driver, glad his eyes were either averted, focused on the road, or he just plain chose to ignore the situation. The last thing he needed was for the Cantonal Police in Geneva to get involved.

“We’re here to find the kids, Alice.” Hiram reminded her. “If you shoot out only lead, we may never accomplish that. Now, once we do have their location and we track them down safely, that’s a whole other story.”

As they journeyed closer to Elias’ residence, an uneasy feeling settled in FP’s stomach. Perhaps it was because his son was involved or maybe it was just intuition from years of running with the wrong crowd, but he knew something was wrong. He leaned his head against the glass of the window, watching the buildings whip by as they drove.

“Now I know you all want to go in there all monster style, press his head to a desk and start pulling out fingernails for information, but just let me do the talking,” Hiram commanded, adjusting his tie and fixing his collar. “We don’t want any trouble.”

FP’s lifted his head as the car came to a halt. Red and blue lights swirled all around the luxury high-rise of which they had stopped in front. “Trouble like this?” he asked, gesturing towards where the sûreté division of the police had gathered.

“We can’t be seen,” Hiram fretted, sinking down in the leather seat. “Driver, please redirect us to the Four Seasons Hotel des Bergues.”

Silent and staring straight ahead, his request was ignored. 

“Driver,” he repeated. “Please take us to the Four Seasons Hotel des Bergues at once!”

The passenger side doors were pulled open and two men in uniform greeted them, serious, unamused expressions plastered across stern brows.

“Mr. Lodge,” the one man greeted them. “And… associates. Welcome to Switzerland. Now please, come with us.”

  
.....  
  


**Somewhere off the coast of Chile**

When the boys had left, Betty and Veronica settled back against the rock of the mountain behind them, relaxing as the cooling air from the waterfall mist helped to combat the heat.

“I wish I had nail polish,” Veronica sighed. “Not that I expect to have a top-notch manicure right now. I know my nails are going to chip and break and that I’ll need a serious appointment for a hand treatment...and a whole-body treatment, at a day spa when we get home. _If_ we get home.”

“ _When,”_ Betty said adamantly. “ _When_ we get home. There is no _if_. Plus, I get it. You just want something to do to pass the time besides thinking about our hike back, and then need to build a shelter, and how we really need to work on starting a fire…”

Veronica frowned, wrinkling up her brow and pouting her lips. “I actually wasn’t thinking about any of that… so thanks for sending my mind into a tailspin. I just think nail polish goes good with girl talk.”

Betty smiled and crossed her legs like an elementary school child at carpet time. “I could use some good girl talk. A bit of normalcy. Tell me, what craziness have you and Archie already engaged in that you want to share.”

Veronica narrowed her eyes predatorily at her friend and offered up a Cheshire cat grin. “Archie and I have merely run off to cuddle, dear Bettykins. We’ve been too shell-shocked and sore for much else. No, what I want to talk about is you and Jughead. The tension is normally thick enough to be cut with a knife but the past two days I’d need a battleax to break through it.”

Betty ducked her head and blushed, looking out over the stream. “I don’t know what you’re-”

“Bullshit,” Veronica gibed, pointing a finger at her best friend. “You two have been handsy, and whispery, and...and cutesy. It’s so adorable it’s almost hard to watch!”

“Fine,” Betty exasperated. “He’s been… extra attentive. And he’s been touching me and kissing my forehead, and my cheeks, and maybe my shoulders…” Betty ran a hand through her hair, opening and closing her mouth a few times, but unable to speak. She was clearly flustered by her own admission and the changes that had come about so suddenly in the past few days. “It’s like the plane crash made him more confident and sexy and for some reason, he’s directing it all at me! Maybe it’s just because we are the only other two here. I mean, you and Archie already have a special connection. Maybe he’s just projecting his fears and channeling them into affection to obtain some form of normalcy in his life.”

“Yeah, okay Laura Berman,” Veronica chortled. “ _Maybe_ I’d buy into some of that psycho mumbo-jumbo if there wasn’t something between you two for years before this all happened. And _don’t_ you dare deny it again,” Veronica snapped as Betty moved to speak. 

“Okay,” Betty muttered softly. “Okay. I won’t deny it. I know that you have known I have feelings for Jug. It’s just not that simple, Ron. You and Arch got together right away. Don’t you think if Jughead had wanted to be with me that he would have done it by now?”

Veronica groaned and rolled her neck, so tired of having the same conversation over and over again. “Oh dios mio, no puedo con la idiotez! Forget the nail polish. I need a mojito. Betty, you should have seen what he was like when we couldn’t find you. When he thought you may have died, his whole world fell apart. I swear that Archie was putting the pieces of him back together, and failing, until the moment we found you.”

Betty’s eyes filled with tears as Veronica spoke and she looked down into her lap, wringing her hands back and forth for something to keep her grounded.

“And when your fever hit, he didn’t leave your side. Not once. We offered to sit with you, but if you didn’t make it, he wanted to be there, B. He wanted to be holding you and taking care of you. That’s more than friendship.”

She was openly crying now, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. Betty bit her lip and pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin upon them.

“I’m so scared, V,” she confessed. “And with everything going on, now isn’t the time-”

“Now is _exactly_ the time, Betty. It’s exactly the time because what if we don’t have any more time?”

For a few moments, Betty sat quietly, looking out at the tropical paradise and prison before her. Veronica was right, what if this was it? They couldn’t survive here forever. As it was, they were lucky to have survived this at all. She wanted to believe it, but her self-doubt came flooding back in like a tsunami.

“What if that’s why he’s acting this way? What if it’s just because we’re probably going to die?”

“Betty- that’s the most ridiculous-”

“Hear me out, V!” Betty exasperated. “I’m- I’m no good for him. I’m messed up and anxious all the time-”

“And you don’t think we all will be after this?” Veronica reasoned. “I know you’ve been through a lot, Betty. Your own father tried to kill you and your mother. He did kill your sister. But that is _not_ a reflection on you. _You_ deserve to be happy. Jughead doesn’t exactly have a past wrapped in roses.”

“I just-”

“At some point, you’re going to have to trust a man again, B,” Veronica spoke softly. “You’re going to have to open yourself up. And how lucky are you that it could be your best friend you get to do that with?”

Betty heaved in a sobbing breath and shook her head, pressing her forehead against her knees before sitting up completely, shaking the stress from her body.

“I’m afraid, V,” she smiled sadly between tears. “What if he _doesn’t_ feel the same.”

Veronica looked up at the rock above them and the waterfall, dripping water down in torrents. “Okay,” she breathed. “I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to be the one.”

“Ronnie?” Betty pressed, curiously.

“When you were in the height of your fever and Jughead was holding you, you thought it was me,” Veronica shared. “You told me, or him, not to tell Jughead that you love him. And after, when he told you again that it was him, you told him not to tell himself that you loved him.”

Betty fell back against the rock, its shiny surface, no doubt made with fragments of obsidian, pressing into her spine. “Oh God,” she whispered, embarrassed. “What did he say? Was he horrified?”

“He told you he loved you too,” Veronica said sweetly. “And before you can say that it was only because you might die or to make you feel better, consider the fact that you were delirious and would have had no idea he said it. You didn’t even know it was him. He’s more confident Betty because he knows you feel the same way he does, and if we’ve learned anything the past few days it’s that life is too short.”

Betty gave her friend no remarks or retorts as she settled inside her own head to think. Her story did change things. For now, Jughead didn’t know that she had any idea what happened and she was going to leave it that way. He seemed to be getting bolder at each encounter they had and she needed that. She settled back against the wall, looking out over the stream again, contemplating admitting her love to Jughead while not lost in a fever dream. The almost-kiss he had placed on her lips felt like liquid iron, warming her bone-deep and she was momentarily disappointed when his lips hadn’t quite hit her own. 

Betty bit her lip and wrapped her legs around her knees again. Perhaps next time his kiss “missed” she’d put it back on the right trajectory. Veronica was right. Life was too short and she had spent seven years afraid. They were on borrowed time in paradise and there was no time like the present. If she survived a plane crash, she could definitely survive an honest confession, and hopefully a kiss, with her best friend.

…..

Archie and Jughead pushed through the brush, filling their bags with food to bring back to camp. Some they knew they could eat right away and others they would leave out to test to ensure it wasn’t poisonous. It wasn’t a fool-proof plan, but they knew nothing about berries in the wild and it was their best shot.

Archie was snacking on more coquitos than he was bagging, but Jughead couldn’t harp on him too much. He was also happy to sample the items they knew were safe while he collected. Once Archie’s stomach was semi-full, he turned his attention to his best friend.

“So, that was some goodbye before we headed out here, huh?” Archie said suggestively as he knocked at a branch with a large stick he had found.

“Arch, if you think I’m impressed at all by how far you had your tongue down your fiancé’s throat at this point, you are mistaken. I’ve spent seven years with you two and walked in on way worse in college.”

A coquito hit Jughead in the back as he turned to find Archie glaring at him. “Not me, dude. We know I’m a lover. I meant you and Betty. That was pretty… hot. For you two anyway.”

Jughead usually prided himself on his steel-like outward exterior and ability to keep a straight face, but he couldn’t stop the lopsided grin that slid across his lips at the mention of her name.

“Yeah,” he grinned giddily. “Yeah, I think maybe, and I swear I will never admit to saying this ever again, that you were right.”

“Say that again?” Archie teased while Jughead chuckled back.

“Hearing Betty actually say she loved me, though she was not quite herself, gave me that little reassurance that I needed that this wasn’t one-sided, you know?” Jughead explained. “Like I won’t confess my feelings and be embarrassed when she stares at me awkwardly. It’s easier now because I know how she feels.”

“And does she know how you feel?” Archie pressed. “Or that she may have divulged her deepest secret while fever dreaming?”

Jughead cinched his bag closed, the seams bursting with all he had gathered. “Not yet, but I’m working up to it. Soon. Like, real soon. If not I think I’ll combust.”

“And combusting is bad,” Archie nodded. “We learned that from the plane.”

Jughead stared at his friend in shock before bursting out in laughter, tossing a coquito back at him now.

“I’m happy for you dude,” Archie smiled, shrugging a bit and uncomfortable with the affectionate talk. “You and Betty deserve to be happy.”

“Thanks, Arch,” Jughead beamed. “You know, this whole situation would have sucked a lot more if you had died. I’m glad you’re here with me.”

“Back at you, bro,” Archie laughed, as they resumed their exploration in comfortable silence.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading guys! Many moments of love, excitement, and angst await them on The Island! I think this is the longest I’ve ever held out on letting Bughead get together. I’m proud of my self restraint this time! I normally don’t make it past chapter 2! But it’s coming at you REAL SOON- promise.
> 
> Many thanks to Jandy for her encouragement and edits!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can’t believe we are in chapter 7 already! More love and survival are coming your way!

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/192454274@N08/51010198772/in/album-72157718550812672/)

“Some memories never heal. Rather than fading with the passage of time, those memories become the only things that are left behind when all else is abraded. The world darkens, like electric bulbs going out one by one. I am aware that I am not a safe person.”

Han Kang- Human Acts

**  
  
Geneva, Switzerland**

FP Jones had been pulled in for police questioning more times than he cared to recount in his life. Some were warranted and for others, he just happened to be a face they could pin things on. Being held in custody in another country was new to him, but the gist was the same. But... something felt off to him. They weren’t in a police station or a typical interrogation room, but rather what seemed like a vacant apartment in an off-kilter building. 

He could sense Hiram’s nerves about the entire situation, though he still sat prim and straight, while Alice clung to her purse, ready to pull out her weapon if necessary. He grinned at that- fire and sass behind an otherwise proper exterior. If she was anything like her mother it was no wonder his boy was in love with her daughter. Jughead would never have admitted it, but he had heard enough of his phone conversations through their tin-can walls when Jughead was home from breaks or visiting- though visits had become more scarce lately after his latest transgressions. He couldn’t blame his son, Jughead was trying to do right and keep things clean and FP admired that. He sighed and slunk back in the chair, knocking his knuckles against the table. He was tired from the travel but also keyed up in anticipation.

They sat without speaking, not wanting to divulge any information to the officer guarding the room. Thirty minutes into the seclusion, the front door opened and a man, about six-feet tall and in his mid-fifties, entered, a police Captain judging by the uniform, dismissing the test of the officer’s before sitting down at the table before them. He allowed his eyes to peruse over the visitors to his country before wordlessly sliding a manila folder across the table to Hiram.

Hiram snapped his eyes up to the Captain, who gave nothing but a nod towards the folder before him. Hiram, looking uncomfortable, arched his neck in a stretch and placed his hand on the cover of the manilla. He hated surprises and he was positive that whatever was in the folder was going to be just that. Lifting the lid, he gazed down at the picture before him, blanching in disgust at the grotesque scene, and clammed the folder closed. 

“Jesus,” Fred had choked out, turning his head to the side to gag as Alice grimaced and pressed her hands over the bridge of her nose in silent prayer. FP bit at his lip. He has seen worse.

“What the hell is this?” Hiram spat, forcefully sliding the folder back across the table in his anger. “Who are you? Why are we here and what kind of game are you playing?”

“Game?” the man chuckled. “I’m no Monopoly man and that wasn’t a card from Guess Who, Mr. Lodge. I assure you, there is nothing light-hearted about the situation we are in.”

Hiram took the defense at once. “Look, Mr…”

“Bühler. Captain Gabriel Bühler, actually,” he explained. 

“Captain Bühler,” Hiram said with a nod, addressing him formally. “I’m not sure what is going on here, but my associates and I are just in Switzerland for a little business meeting. We just arrived and hadn’t even met our partner yet, so whatever this is-” Hiram waved his hand at the folder that sat between them, thankfully now closed, blocking the images inside.

Captain Bühler seemed to think Hiram’s declarations were somewhat amusing as he smirked, lifting up just the left corner of his lip, before opening the folder again, revealing the photographs of what one would assume was a deceased man, the face completely mutilated from a rifle blast.

“This is, or should I say was, Elias Muller, Mr. Lodge,” Captain Bühler explained. “I believe he is the man you were here to see though I had heard you canceled your scheduled meetings with him, so forgive me if I find it odd that you show up, unannounced, and he winds up dead.”

Hiram swallowed nervously. Elias was dead. He had assumed, or hoped, all along that Elias had been toying with him, using Veronica as leverage to garner what he wanted from their deal, but clearly, that was not the case if someone had tied up his pilot and shot his associate in the face at point-blank range.

As Hiram took the time to process this information, it was Alice who blurted out what they were all thinking.

“If this man truly is Elias Muller, then who took our children? What aren’t you telling us, Hiram?”

Captain Bühler cocked his head to the side and looked at Alice curiously. “Your children? They are missing?”

FP leaned forward, folding his hands over the table and placing his forehead on his thumbs. “That’s why we flew all the way over a fucking ocean,  _ Captain. _ Our kids were on a flight to your country and never arrived. In fact, there is no record of the plane’s flight plan ever existing so as you can imagine we’re a little confused, a little surprised, and a shit-ton terrified about them after you so  _ gently _ dropped this bombshell on us.”

Fred glared over at FP for a moment. While his sentiments were the same, he wanted the Swiss Police’s cooperation and chose his own words a bit more eloquently. “We don’t even know this man. We are just here for some answers about our kids and where they might be. We just- we just need to know that they are alright. Especially…” Fred’s eyes drifted towards the photograph of Elias.

“I see,” Captain Bühler muttered, fiddling with the tips of his mustache. “Do they know everything, Hiram? Do they know the  _ whole _ truth?”

Hiram’s eyes snapped up at the Captain in disbelief and shock. He tensed his jaw just the slightest bit and Bühler smiled, knowing he had hit a nerve.

“You want to know exactly what I know, don't you?” Captain Bühler asked Hiram with a grin. “Well, I know everything. How do you think a simple white-collar criminal like Elias got connections with Saudi Arabia? Why do you think I removed the other officers from our little...interrogation?”

“Saudi Arabia?” Alice blasted, looking over at Hiram accusatory. “What are you keeping from us, Lodge? Spill it- now! The time you keep wasting may just cost us the kids’ lives if it hasn’t already.”

Hiram sighed and glanced over at the furious faces of his companions and then the smug look that Captain Bühler wore. “Very well. Let’s start from the beginning.”

…..

**Somewhere off the coast of Chile**

The guys had returned two hours later with a nice haul due to the efforts of their foraging. There had been no sign of life in the water yet and they needed to start heading back to camp quickly if they didn’t want to get caught in the dark. The forest was dangerous enough in the light, let alone when they couldn’t see where they were going or what might be watching them, peering between the branches and leaves.

“We should head back,” Jughead had suggested first, though the rest of them had been thinking the same thing. “We’ll come back tomorrow.”

They had been under the rock enclosure for so long that they hadn’t looked up behind the mountain. Dark gray clouds had rolled in and no sooner had he spoken than the clouds opened up and rained down upon them in sheets, the droplets coming hard and fast. They were kept dry where they were hidden, but it didn’t bode well for a return trip back to the plane.

While they all stood and stared out at the ripples on the stream, Betty’s eyes widened and she began to frantically gather the water bottles they had brought, running out onto the rock ledge and lining them up carefully.

“Betty!” Jughead shouted after her. “What the hell are you doing? You’re going to slip on the wet rocks and break your neck!”

“Clean water, Jug!” she yelled back, beaming. “We can drink this!” 

She was soaked from head to toe and with her balance a bit wonky, Jughead stepped out onto the rain as well to steady her. They worked fast, lining up the rest of the canisters before ducking back under the safety of the ledge, giddy with excitement, Jughead pulling her along with their fingers linked. When they reached the rock embankment he did not drop her hand. The whole affair took no more than fifteen minutes and by the time they had turned the downpour had already stopped.

Veronica was lounging back against Archie when they returned, smirking at the state of her friends.“You guys are soaked!” Her eyes dropped to where their hands were linked before angling back to wink at her fiancé. “I fancy a stroll, Archiekins. Let’s walk around the stream.”

She helped Archie up and wiped the boys of pebble and dirt from her pants as she did so. “You two have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That doesn’t leave much,” Betty muttered under her breath, wrapping her arms around herself with a chill.

“Cold?” Jughead asked and Betty nodded in the affirmative. Though the air was warm the downpour wasn’t and she had never been a fan of wet clothes. Jughead sat and propped himself up against the structure behind him, spreading his legs open while patting in between them. He raised a challenging brow at her and Betty didn’t even take a moment to consider accepting. She sat down before him and pressed her back into his chest, sighing as his warm arms wrapped around her from behind. She hummed in thanks as she let her head rest back against his chest, watching Archie and Veronica pick flowers in the distance. 

“This feels nice,” Jughead gurgled, his words bubbling up from his chest accompanied by a contented sigh.

“Being soaked?” Betty jested, picking at her wet shirt.

Jughead poked her in her uninjured rib in punishment for her teasing as he lifted his left arm to tip her chin towards him. “Holding you,” he breathed out honestly, his breath warm on her face as their lips remained an inch apart. He let his eyes flickered down to her lips, silently expressing his intentions and when she didn’t protest he craned his neck a bit more, his mouth just barely grazing the softness of her own, pausing at her intake of breath.

“Jug!” Betty gasped out. “Oh my god!”

Jughead wrinkled up his face in confusion and stared at her. “If that’s how you react to a barely-there brush of lips what’s going to happen when I  _ really _ kiss you, Cooper?”

Betty chuckled and rolled her eyes, pointing out at the stream. “No! Look!”

He turned and followed the point of her finger, excitement bubbling up in his chest as he watched in what could only be described as one of the most relieving moments of his life. A pair of guanaco had made their way from the line of trees and began to drink from the stream voraciously. Veronica and Archie had seen as well and had stopped what they were doing, the guanaco running back into the forest when they were frightened by Veronica’s tears of joy.

“Adorable mammals ruining our moment…” Jughead mumbled though he was grinning from ear to ear. He helped Betty to stand and they walked out further, celebrating with their friends who were already stripping down to their undergarments before jumping in the sparkling water.

“Come in, guys!” Archie yelled. “We can finally wash off the dirt and stink!”

“Jump with me?” Betty asked shyly as she reached out her hand to tug him forward. They quickly shed their wet clothes, hoping they’d dry a bit before they needed to dress again, and turned to face the ledge before counting down.

“3...2...1...go!”

They jumped from the ledge, screaming as they fell through the drop was only a few feet. As they hit the water, laughing, they submerged under completely only to resurface a moment later, Betty wrapping her arms around his neck and hanging on as they splashed in why Veronica was calling “liquid life” as she ducked under, luxuriating in the feeling of being clean. 

With her arms wrapped tight around him, smiling like a fool, Betty had the urge to kiss Jughead again, this time with a bit more fervor. They could hardly call the graze of lips before a kiss by any means, but she also didn’t want their first  _ real _ kiss to be with an audience and she knew Veronica and Archie were watching. Jughead seemed to feel the same as they separated from each other, regret shining in his eyes.

“To be continued,” he whispered as he pulled away and swam over to their friends, Betty at his side. They played like children, Archie propping Jughead upon his shoulders as he had as children playing in their local stream, though tossing him off was a bit more difficult with his lanky adolescent frame long gone. Betty and Veronica had happily utilized the pressure and flow of the waterfall to wash out their hair, sighing as they scrubbed days’ worth of grime from their scalps.

The euphoria of finding safe drinking water interfered with their judgment and before they knew it the afternoon was expiring, an orange hue settling over the sky. They had climbed from the water once they realized their folly and regrouped in their hidden cove, contemplating their options.

“I can’t believe we were this stupid,” Betty growled, angrier at herself than anything.  _ She _ was responsible.  _ She _ followed through with plans. There was no way they could hike through the jungle at night without risking exposure to predators and injury in the dark. The afternoon’s rain may have also made their pathway difficult and they were slow traveling with their crash injuries as it were. There was no other option but to stay the night.

“So we sleep here,” Veronica shrugged. “What’s the difference between here and the plane?”

“Where to start?” Betty huffed. “To be blunt, we’ve been lucky so far. You saw today what is out there and that was only a small fraction. We’re lucky we haven’t had any nocturnal encounters with snakes, pumas, spiders, wildcats…”

Archie tensed his jaw and picked up loose rock, tossing it through the air and into the stream below. He had been trying to keep his calm for days, but his composure was fading. He was a fixer, a doer, and a problem solver. On the job, while running his company, he always prided himself on his ability to adapt to any situation and maintain decorum even at the worst of times. Now he was floundering- tired and at a loss.

“Well, maybe we won’t find any here either,” he reasoned. “Maybe they stay away from people.”

Betty pressed her lips together tightly, shrugging her shoulders. “Maybe. But it’s more likely that the flames from the engine kept them away at first and then the residual smoke that basically just petered out this morning. If we don’t want any nocturnal visitors while we are out here, exposed, without the plane as a cover, I think we need to figure out how to start a fire.”

“She’s right,” Jughead agreed. “I’ve seen that on those shows where people are left naked in the wilderness and all,” Jughead scoffed at the odd look Veronica tossed his way at his admission. “What? I have insomnia when I have serious writer’s block and not much is on at three in the morning.”

“Because nudie wilderness shows are the kind of nude content most young, virile men are watching when they can’t sleep,” Veronica tossed back, unable to pass up any opportunity to roast him.

“Could we,” Betty said through gritted teeth. “Could we just...not? We  _ actually  _ need to figure out how to start a fire and quickly. We have no matches, no lighter, and no chance of a burning bush just appearing out of nowhere so we need a  _ real  _ plan.”

Archie and Jughead exchanged looks and wordlessly stood, neither looking pleased. When Fred had taken them camping in their youth, he had tried many times to teach them how to start a fire without any manmade supplies. The process was too long and arduous to hold their attention so in their many trips, neither had ever successfully done so, Fred stepping in and procuring the flames. They shared the memories with the girls before they sought out to find sticks and leaves to begin.

Their venture wasn’t as fruitful as they had hoped and Jughead returned with a scowl, dumping an assortment of sticks onto the ground. “Literally everything is wet. These were only slightly damp and the best we could find but I have no idea if it will work.”

Betty offered an encouraging look as she slid her hand up to his forearm and around the back of his neck, squeezing out the tension there. Jughead leaned back into her touch and relaxed his muscles, her touch grounding him almost at once.

“All we can do is keep trying,” Betty said positively. “Now, show me these manly fire skills of yours. I think up until now the most rugged thing I’ve ever seen you do was that time you lit your cigarette with Veronica’s caterer’s butane cooking torch and you were pretty much three sheets to the wind then.”

“Just because you haven’t seen them doesn’t mean I don’t have plenty of rugged, manly skills at my disposal,” Jughead joshed. “Perhaps you’d be open to exploring some later.”

Betty blushed as Veronica nodded in approval and Archie returned with leaves and grass, not quite dry, but also not soaked. “Alright, shall we get cracking?”

“Don’t you mean crackling? We shall,” Jughead retorted seriously. “I just lava good fire.”

“Seriously, Jug?” Archie sighed. “Not now. Just… just not right now. I’m in no mood for jokes.”

“Oil say,” Jughead snarked back. “You are so serious! Betty likes my puns. We are kindling spirits.”

When Archie’s jaw tensed a second time, Betty squeezed Jughead’s arm and shot him a warning glance. They all dealt with stress differently and though she knew he was trying to lighten the mood, it wasn’t helping the situation.

They set right to work immediately after, laying down a larger piece of wood and using Jughead’s knife to dig out a tiny hole in the center. Archie wedged a smaller stick into the hole and began to press down, holding the stick in the palm of his hands as he rubbed in back and forth rigorously. Fifteen minutes in and there had been no smoke and the twig had snapped, Archie tossed the pieces to the side, cursing furiously.

“I’ll try next,” Jughead offered, recoiling at the uncharacteristically murderous glance his best friend sent his way. “I just mean your arms must be tired, Arch. This isn’t easy to begin with and especially not without overly dried out wood.”

Veronica sensed her fiance’s tension was only partly due to the fire and the rest relied heavily on the fact that every time it seemed like things were looking up, something bad happened. The sun was ducking behind the horizon and time was running short.

“Let’s take one last stroll around the stream, Archiekins,” she suggested. “Before the sun sets and we are stuck here for the rest of the night.”

Archie offered a soft, “Yeah,” and followed his fiance away from their perch and out by the water as Jughead picked up a new stick and began to follow in Archie’s path, pressing down and rubbing the wood between his hands until they were raw and splinters without even a wisp of smoke to show for his efforts. Tossing the stick to the side he rubbed at the bridge of his nose and tossed his arms open wide.

“This is hopeless,” he complained to Betty. “I’m not sure if it’s me or the sticks or if I’m not getting enough friction…”

Betty tilted her head and considered what he said, a glimmer of an idea flashing through her mind. “Do you mind if I try something?”

Jughead gave a ‘by all means’ gesture, pointing at the fire and backed up to give her space. He expected her to begin as he had, but instead, she removed her shoe and unlaced it, pulling the string from each of the loops.

“I saw this on a TV show once,” she shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”

Betty tied the ends of her shoelace to the ends of one of the sticks and held another in the center hole as Archie and Jughead had done before. Twisting the shoelace around the center stick, she began to move the one in her hand in a sawing motion, the shoelace rubbing quickly back and forth. Within minutes tiny wisps of smoke began to form and Jughead smiled and shook his head.

“What  _ can’t _ you do?” Jughead asked her, smiling proudly at her success as Betty averted her eyes shyly and instructed him to add some leaves and blow lightly.

For a few more minutes they worked in silence, still sawing with the lace and blowing at the smoke, their faces just across from one another as they watched the smoke turn to sparks and then a small fire. Betty dropped the stick with her shoelace and they both added more leaves, still blowing lightly on the flames as more of the foliage began to catch fire. When they both looked up they were grinning like idiots, and Jughead added a few more sticks to the flame before sliding over next to her.

“Nice work, Cooper,” he praised. “Should we go get Archie and Ron?”

While his question could have seemed innocent, the look on his face said otherwise. Betty watched the way he looked from the crackle of the flames to her eyes, before dropping his gaze down her lips. She could see his fingers twitch as they rested close to her hip, but just out of reach from touching. He was giving her an out, a way to gather their friends if she did not want to be alone. Betty smirked back and shook her head, reaching over and sliding her hand through the hair at the back of his head. That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed.

Their lips met soundly, and eagerly all at once. His teeth grazed her top lip and she nipped at his bottom as he settled his eight over her, laying her down gently, using his hand as a barrier between her head and the rock. This kiss was a far cry from the lip-closed brush earlier in the day, heated and passionate with years of pent-up feelings and waiting to fuel it. His tongue brushed her lip in question and before he had time to process what was happening she was sucking his tongue into her mouth, letting her own stroke against his zealously.

He couldn’t help but rest more of his weight against her then, sliding his hand up her side and pulling her left leg up into a bent position so he could fit in between them. Despite the heat of their kiss, there was plenty of longing and reverence in there, too, as he pulled back for a moment to rub his nose against her own.

“You have no idea…” he breathed out. “...for so long.”

“Kiss me, Jug,” Betty begged, pulling his lips back down to her own, letting the pace of the kiss slow down, their kisses deep and exploratory; the roof of her mouth, the curve of his upper lip. They left no corner untouched as they encouraged their mouths to meet over and over again until his lips, emboldened, began to explore the curve of her jaw and the nape of her neck, their soft sighs and gentle gasps silenced by the falling water.

At some point Veronica and Archie had returned, unseen by their friends, to find the fire burning and their friends aflame as well. Unnoticed, they slunk back into the shadows, affording them a few more minutes of privacy.

…..

When Archie and Veronica ‘officially’ returned, Betty and Jughead still wore soft smiles. Their lips were swollen and red patches that could not be attributed to mosquito bites littered the pale skin of Betty’s neck. Graciously, they didn’t address any of it...for now. Instead, they had each eaten another energy bar from their dwindling supply along with a bit of the safe fruit they collected. The hike, swim, and wear and tear on their bodies left them exhausted and they agreed to take shifts sleeping to ensure the fire stayed lit. Betty and Jughead had volunteered to keep watch first and after laying out some rolled-up shirts as pillows, Archie and Veronica were asleep within minutes.

“So,” Jughead flirted openly. “Whatever shall we do to pass the time?”

At Betty’s half-smirk, he leaned in and stamped a quick peck to her lips, followed by two more for good measure, before speaking again. “If we were alone I’d have a couple of good ideas.”

“Oh really?” Betty replied, her voice full of intrigue with a hint of humor. “Just  _ how good _ are we talking?”

Jughead stared dumbfounded, taken aback by her response, and chortled, snorting as he did so, Betty joining in.

“We should talk,” Betty offered quietly after their mirth had settled, a comfortable silence between them. “I… Did you…”

Jughead tipped her chin up so he could look at her and gave her an encouraging nod. “There’s nothing you can’t ask or say to me, Betty. I hope you know that by now.”

Betty sighed and gripped his hand in her own. “I know. I do know that. It’s just this change is big. It’s a huge shift in our dynamic and I can’t help but wonder if you’re only drawn to me because we almost died… because of the circumstances.”

She looked away, worried, her mind whirring and racing with hundreds of possibilities. What if he said yes? What if he said no? What if he was offended? She rebuked herself for even daring to ask such a question as her inner voice yelled, ‘ _ Who cares? Just keep kissing him _ !’

“Betts,” Jughead cooed softly, pulling her from the rock into his lap. “The only thing this crash influenced was my perception of what’s important. I’ve had a crush on you since the first moment you spoke to me. Do you remember that day?”

“I do,” Betty smiled, her eyes tearing up at his honest admission. Her heart felt light and the sinking feeling in her gut dissipated.  _ He has a crush on me,  _ she repeated to herself.  _ Has _ had one, for a long time. “I was carrying a giant box into my dorm and you ran right into it. It had all of my favorite books, comfort reads I had brought with me, and they scattered all over the floor.”

Jughead smiled at the memory. “Do you remember what happened next?”

“I remember that somehow Archie and Veronica showed up, made moon eyes at each other, and we all made plans to go to the dining hall that night.”

Jughead brushed Betty’s hair back behind her ears. After their swim she had foregone her usual ponytail and had let her hair air dry, using her fingers as a brush. The tropical heat and humidity and dried it quickly and a soft, frizzy curl had set in. He loved how she looked completely natural- just pure Betty.

“After I destroyed your box, squashed your copy of Much Ado About Nothing, and apologized profusely, I made an awful joke and said, ‘I guess you can read, huh?’ I mean, I may have had straight A’s in English class, but I had a solid D in flirting. But you, you didn’t miss a beat and you said-”

“I’m quite illiterate, but I read a lot,” Betty finished. “From Catcher in the Rye.”

“And that was it,” Jughead confessed. “Right then and there, on day one of freshman year of college, in the middle of Truman Hall, I was a gone man.”

Neither of them said ‘love’. It didn’t seem like the time with their friends a few feet away, but they both felt the sentiment. With newfound confidence, Betty kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. They kept their kisses soft and innocent, neither looking to take things further, but desperate for connection and affection. 

At some point and hour into their watch, Betty had rested back against his chest as Jughead had pulled out a book from his bag, one of Betty’s he had found scattered among the luggage in the cargo hold. The cover featured dripping fangs and a pair of red lips and read, “A Wound so Deep.” They had laughed at the absurdity and she had confessed to packing mindless romance-trash for the spa. At that moment as they lay back by the fire and he read aloud, it felt as if everything would be alright.

…..

At some point in the night, they had traded shifts **,** Betty and Jughead having kept the fire kindled and fed for a few hours prior. Though it was still early, maybe half-past five, the sun, inching its way up the sky began to stir Betty from her slumber across Jughead’s chest. The first thing she noticed was the lock of hair that had fallen over his eye during the night. She smiled to herself and swept it off his face, the brush seemingly tickling his nose and causing him to scratch at it. The second was less desirable. At some point, their fire had gone out. Archie and Veronica must have fallen asleep on the job. At least it was morning. 

Betty sat up completely and let her eyes adjust to the hue of the sky and that’s when she noticed it. As Veronica lay asleep on her back, oblivious to the world, a large black snake had taken up residence over her hips, its coiled body resting on her stomach with its head over her sternum. 

“Jug,” Betty whispered, shaking him from his sleep as he mumbled. “Jughead!”

“Mmmm, baby, you know how much I love a freshly sharpened pencil,” he muttered, rolling over again. Betty looked nothing but confused and decided to unpack that tidbit of information later, jostling him again and this time waking him completely.

“S’early,” he muttered, rolling over to look at her. Sleepily he sat up and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “Everything okay?”

Betty just shook her head and looked over at Veronica, her face etched with worry. Jughead followed her line of vision and released a soft intake of breath when he saw her cause for concern.

“What do we do?” she whispered. “We can’t wake her or she will flip out completely. “Do we hope it just decides to relocate?”

Jughead stared on in horror. Since he was a child he had been terrified of snakes. They were the mascot of his father’s gang, a terrible reminder that while he may be family by blood, he was never as important as his father’s chosen family. 

When he was nine he had gotten beat up at school. Two of his old classmates, Chuck and Jason, had cornered him on the playground, teasing him about his ripped shoes and too-large clothes that his father had said he would grow into. He had slung back an insult about their mothers that he had heard around the Wyrm, the bar his father frequented, and the place where he often did his homework, grateful the kind waitresses took pity on him and snuck him treats as he sat. The boys had torn into him after that, laying blow after blow onto his ribs and face, earning him a black eye and a bloody nose. He hadn’t fought back. It was school policy.

When the school called his father and he had picked him up, he thought he’d be proud; proud that he had followed the rules. He was the exact opposite. In his semi-sober state, he had slapped him around a bit, reminding him he needed to defend himself before marching him straight into the Wyrm and up to the snake they kept cooped up behind the bar.

“You need to toughen up, boy!” he had screamed as he pressed his face against the mesh top and shoved his arm into the latch he had opened, letting it brush up against the smooth skin of the snake. He remembers crying and begging as FP had yelled out to all the workers that no one was to allow him to move. He can’t remember how long he leaned over, afraid to breathe and afraid to move before his father had ended his punishment. All he remembered was the next time the boys came at him, he hit back.

Staring at the snake on Ronnie, its marble black eyes staring through him like a dare, he felt like that nine-year-old boy again.

“Jug?” Betty said persistently, and he realized she had been talking the whole time. “Should we wake Archie?”

Jughead regained his composure and carefully tiptoed over to where Archie slept, waking him gently and covering his mouth so he wouldn’t make a sound. He pointed over at his fiancé before pulling Archie back across to where he had Betty had stood.

“Shit, that is big!” he shuddered in fear. “Is it poisonous? What do we do? I can’t let it bite her!”

“Relax, Arch,” Betty warned him. “We can’t act rashly here.”

But act rashly they would need to because Veronica chose that moment to stir, her arm brushing across her chest and disturbing the black mass that sat there. The creature took her brush and deep breath as a threat and it straightened itself, rearing its head up from its body and staring down at her face, poised to attack.

“No!” Archie snapped, just as Veronica’s eyes opened wide, a silent scream hanging from her lips as the snake stared back at her. Before it could strike, Archie lurched forward and grabbed at its body, ripping it from his fiancé’s body at his own expense, the snake’s fangs sinking into his calf where the head had dangled when he pulled. With a quick fling, the snake was tossed from sight and Archie hissed out in pain, flopping down to the ground and rolling up his pant leg. 

“Archie!” Veronica shrieked, shrill and in complete and utter dread, springing up and crawling her way over to his side to examine his wound. “Oh- oh my God. It bit you. It punctured the skin.”

Frantically she looked over to where Betty and Jughead stood, their eyes wide and jaws aghast. “Was it poisonous?” she yelled as if they should know. “Was it? What kind of snake was that?”

“V,” Betty said calmly. “I don’t- we don’t know. I don’t know anything about snakes. I don't-”

“So you know about Chile and starting fires and clean drinking water, but nothing about snakes?” Veronica hissed. “We have to do something!”

Jughead’s head snapped up and she began to remove the flannel he had put on the night before to shield his arms from the rough rock.

“Jug?” Betty asked. “What are you doing?”

He tossed her a clueless look before looking back over at Archie. “I have  _ no _ idea,” he replied honestly. “But she’s right. We have to do something.”

Jughead sank down at Archie’s side while Archie surveyed his wound as best as he could. “How are you feeling there, Arch?” he asked casually as he tied the shirt tightly around Archie’s leg, directly above the bite.

“Like I hate tropical vacations,” Archie joked, wincing as Jughead pressed on the wound.

Jughead stared down at Archie’s wound and began to mutter to himself, glancing up at the sky as he did so. “What’s about to happen here- we never speak of again, alright?”

Archie was barely able to nod before Jughead was bent over his calf, sucking at his wound and spitting sips of blood out onto the ground beside himself. Veronica covered her mouth in a silent gag as Betty looked on, bug-eyed and impressed. Time after time, a Jughead sucked at the wound, spitting each offending mouthful onto the rock. He had no idea if there was even poison in the wound, but he wouldn't take the chance, not with Archie’s life. 

When he was positive the poison was either out or too far into his system to matter, he stood up, swaying a bit, before running to empty his stomach over the side of the waterfall. Veronica took his place at Archie’s side, hugging him tightly and thanking him for taking care of her while Betty brought Jughead a full bottle of water, watching as he washed his mouth out several times, spitting the water over the side of the rock.

They waited over an hour afterward, having cleaned and wrapped Archie’s bite. When nothing immediately happened they were relieved that either Jughead's plan had worked or that the snake was harmless. Either way, they would never sleep without a well-lit fire again, not now that they knew what was out there in the jungle. They packed up afterward and headed back to camp carefully, avoiding all the creatures the jungle had to offer. They had reached the plane and their camp by mid-day and sank into an exhausted rest. Their shelters and other plans could wait until the following day.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I know things aren’t 100% accurate in regards to the location, but I tried to be close. There is plenty more love and adventure in store for our faves!
> 
> Thanks to Jandy as always for her beta skills and support!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I mean, they are still on the island, so do I need a summary? Bughead likes to smooch now? The stressors of the island start to get to them. I hope you enjoy!

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/192454274@N08/51010198772/in/album-72157718550812672/)

”Some people's lives seem to flow in a narrative; mine had many stops and starts. That's what trauma does. It interrupts the plot. You can't process it because it doesn't fit with what came before or what comes afterwards.”

Jessica Stern

**  
**  
**Geneva, Switzerland**

“I’m not sure where to begin.”

The bombshell that Elias was dead had reverberated through them, like resounding shockwaves from a bomb, and that’s exactly what it felt like- as if a bomb had been dropped, leveling all they loved dearly with its massive blow. Elias Muller was dead and they had no strong leads on where to begin looking for Hiram’s missing plane. 

“Why don’t you start with telling the story, the _whole_ story, to your friends,” Captain Bühler suggested. 

Hiram rolled his neck and stuck his index finger in the collar, pulling at it a bit as he began to sweat. It was one thing when people speculated that you weren’t exactly the cleanest businessman, but it was quite another to outrightly publicize it.

“Sugarhoneyicedtea,” Alice breathed out as one word, FP chuckling and offering up an entertained grin at her proper attempt not to curse. She shot him a glare that him curling inwardly. “Just tell us what illegal nonsense you were involved in, Hiram. Embezzlement? Securities fraud? Money Laundering? Worse?” she finished, not at all satisfied with the sheepish look on his face.

“Alright,” Hiram began, conceding to their demand. “Elias and I met fifteen years ago through a mutual business partner. He needed an American insider to help broker financial deals that the Swizz government wouldn’t allow and I needed a Swiss bank account and overseas partner.”

FP shook his head. “All you fancy suits and your Swiss accounts. You sound like a Hollywood film character.”

Hiram shrugged, not denying the truth behind it. “Since 1934, Swiss banks have been legally unable to reveal the names that are on their accounts. I didn’t need Elias to do this, but I did need him to help oversee my investments and to help me launder money through my company. Money laundering was his specialty and since my finds were coming to Switzerland, it just made sense to work with a Swiss partner. It would also be more difficult to get solid information if the FBI ever came knocking on my door. To prevent laundering, I needed professional documents, tax returns, and licenses for the company. Elias was a master at forging such legal documents.”

Fred glanced around the table. Out of all of them, he was probably the most simple. He was an honest man, who made an honest living. He didn’t own a gun, he didn’t run with gangs, hell, he rarely even got drunk. While he may be simple, he wasn’t naive. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see how something like money laundering would get Elias killed and your plan hijacked. There has to be more.”

Hiram cleared his throat and looked around the room for any sign of water. Bühler made no move to get him any so he assumed that there was none available, or else the Captain wasn’t allowing it until they got to the bottom of what was going on.

“You’re right, Fred,” Hiram agreed. “There was more, or is, I should say. About two years ago Elias took a big hit. Another client he was working for got taken down and as a result, we were all investigated. He was good at what he did as I said, and there was no solid evidence that my company was anything but illegitimate, but Elias could no longer continue his endeavors. That’s when we created a new one.”

“In Saudi Arabia,” Alice confirmed.

Hiram pursed his lips and nodded back. “In Saudi Arabia. You see, alcohol is one-hundred-percent, completely banned there. You can’t import, sell, brew, or even sip it in any way, shape, or form. The country follows Islamic laws quite strictly and they don’t even have any to serve tourists. Naturally, Elias and I saw this as an untapped market.”

“Smuggling?” FP laughed out, looking up at the ceiling with a shake of his head. “You were smuggling alcohol into Saudi Arabia? Why couldn’t you just smuggle cocaine in the US like the rest of us “businessmen”?”

“What’s the punishment for alcohol consumption there?” Alice asked quietly. “How bad are we talking here?”

Hiram shrugged. “Lashings, jail time, maybe just a confiscation. But I’ve heard from some that if you’re caught selling you can get five hundred lashes. Despite it all, you can still find it on the black market and plenty of secret home-brews. I just tapped into the market with a higher-quality product.”

“That you did,” Captain Bühler agreed. “And I helped. I had contacts on the police force who worked closely with the Director of Public Safety. I set them up with Elias and acted as the liaison. He didn’t want you to know there was a middle-man because he feared you wouldn’t have trusted it.”

Hiram raised his eyebrows. Elias was more slippery than he knew. “He was right. I wouldn't have allowed the dealing to go through. And if I had known during our most recent contract dealing, I wouldn’t have even perused the papers, not after what happened last month.”

“What happened last month?” Alice asked hesitantly.

Bühler indeed, pulling a cigarette and a lighter from his jacket pocket and igniting the end. He offered them to the rest of the table only FP partaking, before leaning back in his chair and blowing smoke up at the ceiling. 

“One of our contacts was caught mid-transfer,” Bühler explained. “He didn’t give us up, but he did commit suicide after, unwilling to live a life cast away from the force and shrouded in shame. Elias was afraid that the Director of Public Safety may have uncovered the ring entirely after that and was only allowing it to continue temporarily in hopes of taking down its proprietors. We temporarily suspended our operation though and he wrote up a new contract and careful business plan after that, one that would offer him more benefits and protections.”

“Which is why I was coming to Switzerland. To negotiate,” Hiram said, turning to Bühler. “You knew his contract left me vulnerable. That’s why you thought I killed him.”

Bühler took another puff from his cigarette and hummed in agreement. “It crossed my mind, but not anymore. Not with your child gone missing as well.”

They sat quietly for a moment, looking between one another. None of them wanted to be the one to say what needed to happen next. Alice finally decided that it would drake a woman to get things started.

“Captain Bühler,” Alice said, her tone cool and official. “I’m going to assume you still have contacts in Saudi Arabia.”

“Please, call me Gabriel. And yes, I do still have a few reliable contacts.”

Alice nodded, satisfied by his answer. “Very well. Get in touch with them. The way I see it, our only chance of finding another lead on the kids is to seek out the source of the issue itself and we can only do that in Saudi Arabia.”

…..

**Somewhere off the coast of Chile**

It had been two days since Archie had an encounter with the snake by the falls. Since then, the four of them had been inseparable; sleeping in a giant huddle and sticking together all day. Archie and Jughead made some slow, but steady, headway on the huts closer to the treeline, but had pushed them forward a bit more, hoping to avoid any more serpentine exchanges. 

The entire previous day had been dedicated to testing their food sources for edibility. Betty had recalled how Polly had tested out peanut butter with the twins years ago and they introduced that protocol with the berries they had found, each choosing one to sample. They started early in the morning by rubbing the fruit against the soft skin on the underside of their forearms. Almost at once, Veronica’s began to turn a bump red, her skin itchy and inflamed. Rather than risk things, they discarded that stash of berries and rendered them inedible.

When three hours later the rest had caused no issues, Betty, Archie, and Jughead let the berries rub up against their lips, waiting again another three hours for a sign the foods were dangerous. The time passed slowly. It was difficult to conduct the test when your whole brain was screaming for more food. Each food, having passed their lip test, was then tasted, just a small bite so tiny that it was a tease; tantalizing yet unsatisfying. Jughead immediately spat out his berry, proclaiming it tastes like decaying flesh while Betty and Archie waited for side-effects post-consumption. Hours later, when neither fell ill, they each ate a whole berry and then waited until morning. As the sun rose and they were both fine, they deemed two of their four unknown finds safe to eat and added them to their food supply.

In today’s morning heat as the boys built huts, Betty and Veronica had begun to collect beach trash- fragments and belongings from the plane and even just garbage that had washed up on the shore like old bottles. The night after their return from the falls, Betty had started a fire again. With her arm not healed and her ribs still raw, the effort took a lot out of her. The next morning she had been sitting in the sand when a bottle washed ashore, almost directly into her hands. 

She had stared at the glass for a while, debating tossing it back into the sea, hoping it would linger and break apart, becoming smooth and creating sea glass that some child would find one day with exuberance- something beautiful coming from this ghastly situation. It was almost like the ocean had given her a present like it was still helping her as it did on the night of the crash.

“You’re losing it, Cooper,” she chastised herself, shaking her head, but something stopped her from throwing the bottle back. She held it low, near the sand, playing with it and watching the light from the sun reflect off the glass when it hit her. Springing up from the sand, Betty hobbled past Veronica and Archie, who were attempting to create a spear out of sticks and a rock, and up to the trees. Quickly, her lungs still protesting at the pace she had managed, she knelt down, piling up some dry brush and leaves. Betty gazed up at the sky and found the angle of the sun, letting it shine through the glass and down onto her tiny foliage mountain.

“Betty?” Jughead asked, dropping a pile of wood he was carrying. “What are you doing?”

From where she concentrated on the ground, Betty let her eyes drift up towards Jughead as he placed the wood on the sand. The island had been kind to him, his skin turning a tanned hue from the sun. They tried to stay covered, not wanting to risk exposure and sunburn, usually wearing pants and long sleeves in the heat of the day. But early morning and later at night, Betty utilized some t-shirts she had packed as loungewear. Working near the shaded trees, Jughead had opted for no shirt and the sight left Betty stupid.

“I- I”m-...” Betty stammered as she watched the sweat bead on his skin. “I’m trying to start a fire and God, you’re distracting.”

Jughead grinned smugly and sank down beside her. “A fire?” he said before it dawned on him. “Oh! Like with a magnifying glass!”

“Yes!” Betty grinned, her smile splitting her face, even more so when the dry shrubs below the bottle began to smoke before bursting into flames. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Jughead stared straight at her as his jaw went slack. “God I wish you were yelling that at me and not at a fire,” he blurted out without thought, Betty’s wide eyes snapping up to his own. “Sorry,” he added quickly. “It’s just the ‘yes’ and you starting the fire, and I-”

His back hit the sand, harder than she intended as she covered his lips with her own, partly driven by the excitement over her new discovery and partly because he wanted to make her scream. They hadn’t had more than a few minutes alone since their make-out session at the falls, and Betty was starved. Archie and Veronica had been with them on the beach, in the forest, and on the plane and she had barely been able to find time for more than a soft peck since then. She was making up for the lost time and with her lips offering a brief hello in the form of a quick peck, her tongue was pressing past his teeth as his hands slid their way up her back and under her shirt, pressing her more firmly onto his chest.

“Hey guys, what was that…” Veronica asked as she came into view, Archie on her heels. “Oh,” she said in a long-drawn-out manner. “It was _that_ kind of yes. Look at you two making up for lost time while you were all stupid and pining.”

Jughead had been biting Betty’s lower lip when their fun had been squashed. Shooting Veronica a dirty look, he allowed her lip, red and swollen, to drop from between his teeth and helped her to sit upright, Betty smoothing down her shirt and adjusting her clothing.

“It _may_ have been that kind of yes if you weren’t _everywhere_ all the time,” Betty mumbled to herself as she stood, taking the hand Jughead had offered to pull herself up.

“Hey, we wouldn’t mind some alone time either,” Archie snapped. “If you think it was fun for us to lay there and watch you two try _not_ to touch all night then you’re delusional.”

Veronica sighed and rolled her shoulders, tense, hot, and hungry. “We can’t do this. We can’t fight over anything, not when so much is at stake. We’re tired and hungry and sore… but we need to remain as a family unit, alright?”

Archie and Jughead, who had been in a bit of a staredown, softened their eyes and nodded, tiredly. Betty was already frowning over how they had blown up over absolutely nothing. She decided the best way to move on was with hope.

“I started a fire with a bottle,” she explained. “That’s what prompted the celebration. It only takes minutes and no physical exertion. This was big, guys, and it gave me another idea.”

For the next few minutes, Betty explained some of her plans, each of them having taken a seat in the shade under the trees. She had realized that their situation was the only one where ocean pollution was beneficial. Glas bottles and plastic ones littered the beach, along with other packaging, strings, and fishing wires. The abundance of the clear line led her to believe that this was a heavily fished area, possibly having faced overfishing due to the absence of boats.

“So we have garbage,” Veronica said flatly. “And this is what got you all hot and bothered?”

“No!” Betty whined, rolling her eyes. “Do you remember down at Sweetwater Creek how the kids from the south side of town would show up without fishing rods?”

“I mean, I also showed up without a fishing rod, but that’s because fishing is disgusting,” Veronica reasoned. “But I see your point, continue.”

Betty rolled her hand into a fist, wanting to explain her plan and grappling with also wanting to maim her best friend at the same time. “My point is that they would fill water bottles up with water, sand, and stone to weigh them down and tie a string to the caps. Then they’d attach a rock or small twig to the end and coat it with bait. They fished with _nothing_. What if that worked for us?”

Archie’s eyes lit up in delight and Jughead’s stomach grumbled at the thought. “Are you saying we could be eating fish by tomorrow if we build some traps now?”

Betty shrugged. “I’m not totally confident they will work, but I do remember seeing a demonstration of how to build alternative traps from wood on our fourth-grade class trip to a Native American village. I’m not positive I remember how to build them, but I sort of remember the end product and what it resembled.”

Archie and Jughead sprung up at once, ready to dart down the beach as fast as their legs would take them.

“Where are you going?” Veronica yelled, jumping up to join them. She was uneasy when Archie left her side.

“To collect garbage!” Jughead yelled back. “If Betty’s right and garbage can catch us some fish, I swear I’ll morph into Captain Planet and make every day Earth Day right here on the spot.”

…..

The creation of traps had taken all day and their huts once again went unfinished. Betty and Veronica had set up twelve bottle traps, scattered down the beach in various spots. They were close enough where they didn’t have to travel too far to check them but spaced enough apart that they weren’t able to tangle with each other.

They had also spent hours trying to recreate one of the traps Betty had recalled from her youth. None of them knew exactly how they were built, and no way to sketch one out besides crude drawings in the sand that Betty had used a stick to create. In the end, she remembered they were large “V”-like structures in the sand that trapped the fish when the tides went out. With their background in construction, Archie and Jughead were able to comprehend the concept and crafted their own version. With their injuries and needing frequent breaks from the sun, it had taken hours to dig the wooden contraptions. They used large tree limbs too and dug them deep into the sand so they wouldn’t be washed away, hoping that their labor paid off and they would end up with some form of protein to cook, berries and coquitos unable to fill them completely.

“How long will it take to get fish?” Veronica had snapped somewhere around early evening, judging by the sun’s angle. They had just finished lighting a few scattered fires on the beach, in between the trees and where the high-tide normally ended, hoping to keep the animals away more efficiently. The glass bottles had been a huge development for their survival. They sat in the sand, having just replenished their bodies’ water needs with a bottle each from their stock. Archie lay back in the sand, a t-shirt over his face as he tried to rest while Jughead tossed his knife back and forth, trying to hit a coquito hull that lay in the sand.

“The tide hasn’t even come in yet, V,” Betty shrugged. “And as for the bottles, I mean, they were a long shot but worth a try.”

Veronica snorted and scratched furiously at her arms, her eye blinking rapidly as if twitching as she turned to stare at her friend. She had been overly-chipper and trying too hard to make things right since the crash, to keep things normal as if they weren’t fighting to survive. “So what...we spent hours making these damned things and possibly get nothing in return? We come up empty-handed? Did you even consider that before you stopped the guys from making our shelters, Betty?”

Betty looked quite taken aback by the outburst and pulled her face back, staring at Veronica as if she had never met this side of her before. “It- it was always a gamble, V. But a necessary one! We need more food if we are going to survive because, newsflash, no one is coming for us!”

By now Archie had roused from where he lay, staring between his fiance and her best friend as Jughead halted his knife-toss. The boys exchanged looks, wordlessly agreeing to step in if necessary.

Veronica clucked her tongue and huffed out a humorless laugh. “Oh and I suppose that’s my fault. It’s my fault no one is coming since this whole mess was meant for my father?”

“I never said that!” Betty yelled back. “I never once blamed you for this whole mess!”

“But you could. You said you haven’t, but you want to!” Veronica cried. “But maybe now I should blame you for this fool-hearty fish plan where we may wind up with nothing after all that hard work.”

Betty bit her lip and shook her head as her eyebrows arched to the top of her forehead. She stared down at her shoes in the sand for a moment before smirking back at Veronica. “That’s how things work, V. You put in work- hard work, and you don’t always get what you want. But you and your family wouldn’t be familiar with that concept! Sometimes sacrifices need to be made!”

“And is that what your father told you?” Veronica yelled, leaping to her feet and pointing at Betty with an outstretched finger. “Because _your_ family knows all about sacrifice. How many of us are you willing to sacrifice, Betty? Who should die first?”

Jughead’s face was contorted in a scowl as he stood from the sand and pulled a shocked Betty into his chest as Archie grabbed his fiance’s shoulder and slid his palm across her cheek.

“Enough!” Jughead yelled. “This stops now! None of us are equipped for this. None of us know what’s the most important to do and what is superfluous. The one thing we can count on that we need, unquestionably, is each other. We will not survive if we are at one another’s throats.”

Veronica swallowed hard, holding back tears as Betty dared-not look her way again. Using her father was a low-blow, even if she knew it was because Veronica had her own daddy-issues and was feeling guilty over the whole mess. HItching in a breath, Veronica began to sob against Archie’s chest, laying all her weight upon his body. He was exhausted and seemed to barely support her, the circles under his eyes prominent and deep.

“I’m sorry,” she cried out shaking. “Betty, I didn’t mean it… any of it. I just… I’m always terrified. Every second of every day here I’m just afraid. Archie’s burns are barely healing and we _never_ talk about that, none of us are eating enough, we are running low on medical supplies...We were in a plane crash! An actual plane crash!”

“Ron,” Archie cooed softly. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? You’re experiencing backlash from the trauma. Your brain is trying to make sense out of what happened and it’s grasping at straws.”

“Because,” she laughed, waving a hand out wildly. “You all seemed fine! And I’ve been trying so hard not to fall apart.”

“We all are, V,” Betty said quietly. “I’m afraid every time I close my eyes that they won’t open again, or worse, I’ll wake up and you’ll all be gone. We all want to cry, all the time, V. I just want to scream- I want the sky to open up and I want to look God right in the face and ask him why? Why would he allow this to happen?”

“Betty,” Veronica choked.

“Arch,” Jughead sighed. “Why don’t you two head to the plane. Betty and I will stay out here for a while and check the traps and fires. I think we all need some time apart to cool down and maybe just unwind.”

Archie looked to Betty to make sure she was alright and Jughead waved him on, letting him know that she would be fine and he had her. With a final nod to Jughead, Archie turned and slipped his arm around Veronica’s waist.

“I really am sorry, Betty,” Veronica offered one last time. “The traps are important and I…”

“It’s alright,” Betty whispered as Archie guided Veronica away and towards the plane. “I know.”

They watched their friends disappear into the plane before Betty buried herself against Jughead’s chest again, inhaling deeply even though his scent was more natural and less deodorant-based than he would have liked at the moment.

“You okay?” he mumbled into her hair, wrapping his arms tight around her waist.

Her reply came in the form of a hum and a light kiss to his chest. “It’s just- it’s not a dream. This is reality. It’s real and my mind is constantly whirling with the stark reality that we can’t keep this up forever. We’re only twenty-five and you and I, we just-”

Jughead cut her off with a kiss, rough and visceral as if he was trying to merge their mouths into one. His hand on her waist slid up her back and molded itself in her hair, pressing her lips more completely to his own. Their noses bumped together, mashing against one another as Betty gripped his chin and held him in place. In that moment and in that kiss, she let it all go. She gave his lips her fears, let his tongue swipe away her desperation, and his hands soothed her anger. There may not be a tomorrow, but there was a here and now and she wanted to be present.

Dropping her grip on his chin, Betty slid her hands down and under his shirt, resting them against the sticky skin on his lower abdomen before letting them drift up to his chest. Jughead let out a low groan and bit at her lip, a bit harder than he planned after feeling her fingertips on his skin for the first time, then soothed the bite with his tongue before resting his forehead against hers, breathing heavily. With her eyes still closed, Betty’s lips searched for his again and he obliged, but only with a soft, small peck.

“C’mon,” he said softly, pulling her along. “The sun is about to set. We should check the fires and fishing traps before sundown.”

Jughead had no interest in doing either of the chores he mentioned, but his resolve was waning. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could wait before he just tackled Betty in the sand and engaged in the most original of acts. But he wouldn’t do that with her. It meant too much. Reluctantly they both set to work, each taking six of the bottles to check, both coming up empty-handed. They added more wood to the fires on the beach before meeting back up by the huts, frowning.

“She was right,” Betty sighed, picking up a stray bottle and tossing it across the sand. “It was a waste of time. And we need to use our time wisely. I can’t believe I was so stu-”

“No,” Jughead said firmly. “You weren’t stupid, Betty. Veronica didn’t mean and you know it’s not true. We barely set the traps but a few hours ago. They will work. I _know_ your plan will work.”

Betty pouted, but her pout turned into a soft smile as she considered his words. “Why are you always so supportive of me? Why are you so sure this will work?”

Jughead grinned wryly and placed his hands on her hips. He couldn’t help himself. He knew if he kissed her again he’d be done for, but he was, and always had been, a glutton for punishment. “That’s easy, Cooper. I know you.”

Betty’s lips crashed into his with hunger and voracious speed and he backed her up against the trunk of a tree, grateful it was not yet dark and that he could see their surroundings. Betty pulled at his neck, dragging him closer as he linked his arms under her legs and lifted her up so they were eye-level, Betty wrapping her legs around his waist as their tongues dueled for control. After hastily traded kisses in quick exchanges the past few days, they were both wild, devouring each other with fervor. 

Unconsciously, Betty began to roll her hips against his and Jughead hissed, pressing her back into the tree even harder, increasing the friction. Betty pulled away from his lips and tossed her head back, stifling a moan as he took advantage of her new position to attack her neck, sucking at her pulse point and collarbone, leaving purple splotches in between. When he bit at her earlobe, he smiled smugly at the high-pitched whimper he drew from her lips. With a final slow roll of hips, Betty drew her eyes up to his, about to request they make their way to one of the unfinished huts when he heard Archie’s voice.

“Betty! Jug! Where are you guys?”

Panting, they rested their foreheads against each other as Betty unhooked her legs and he lowered her to the ground, cursing at Archie all the while.

“Guys!” Archie called again. “Where are you?”

“Here, Arch!” Jughead called back, stamping a last kiss on Betty’s lips before stepping out onto the sand. 

“What are you guys doing back there?” Archie asked, baffled. “There could be snakes. And, Betty! Your neck! You got an awful lot of bug bites.”

Jughead buried his face in his hands as Betty stared sadly at Archie, wondering how Veronica dealt with him at times.

“Anyway, come with me! Ronnie and I have some things we want to show you!”

Holding hands, they set off down the beach after Archie, only to see him pass the plane. On the other side, Veronica stood with hands on her hips, using a hunk of plane metal to bang something into the ground. Two sticks were bound together with some dried, malleable bark and a washed-up milk jug sat atop it, the wood poking through the gallon opening. The gallon had dried grass, like hair, on top, and one of the hats from Archie’s luggage on top of that. It also was adorned with one of Veronica’s dresses.

Jughead leaned in close to Betty and dipped his lips down to her ear. “Stay close,” he teased. “She’s finally lost it.”

“Isn’t it great!” Veronica gushed waving her arms over at her artwork. “This will solve so many issues!”

Betty squinted her eyes and stared at the crude scarecrow, unsure what exactly the mound of twigs and garbage would solve. “It’s great, V,” Betty said slowly. “What exactly is it?”

“This is Hortencia!” Veronica exclaimed proudly. “Jughead, give me your knife.”

Tight-lipped, but teasing, Jug shook his head. “I’ve seen this part of the movie Ron…”

Veronica rolled her eyes and jutted out her hip, reaching her hand his way as he handed over the knife. Once she had it in grasp, she took a few steps back where she had a small pile of coquitos waiting.

“I kept thinking about how we only had each other to take out our frustration on and then I thought about Tom Hanks in castaway and how he had Wilson. Thus, Hortencia was born.” She picked up a coquito or two, tossing them at the dummy before trying her luck with Jughead’s knife. “If we need to blow off steam, we can just take it out on her!”

“Like a punching bag,” Archie explained further, seeing the confusion on both of their faces, his own expression begging them to play along.

“Why Hortencia?” Jughead asked, still staring at the dilapidated creation.

“Because,” Veronica shrugged. “Then while we toss we can yell, ‘Take that, whore!’... like short… for Hortencia.”

Betty stifled a laugh and Jughead’s eyes widened as he ran a hand through his hair. “I’m going to have to unpack that one later. Aren’t we not supposed to say whore? Like, shouldn’t I be empowering women?”

“She’s a stick, Jughead,” Veronica said flatly. “And sometimes it just feels good to yell ‘whore!’”

“She’s right,” Betty smiled and nodded. “Does feel good sometimes.”

While Betty joined Veronica and tossed coquitos for a while, the drama from earlier dissolving as the girls went back to their normal banter, Archie ran off by the trees and came back a few minutes later, looking quite proud.

“I almost forgot!” Archie smiled excitedly. “Look!”

He held up his hand and dangling from his fingers by its tail was a reptile, large and brown. 

“So we got another member of our party and a pet lizard?” Jughead asked, wondering if his friends had gone off the deep end.

“It’s an iguana,” Archie said as if it were obvious. “And it’s dinner.”

Betty stopped mid-toss and Jug shook his head incredulously, eyes popping wide open. “I’m sorry, what now?”

“Dinner,” Archie repeated, “We can’t survive on fruit and we are out of energy bars. Betty’s fishing traps gave me the idea and when we took a break earlier I dug a deep pit by the trees and put some sharpened sticks inside. I covered it with leaves and viola, dinner fell in!”

“I might vomit,” Betty burped, her skin a bit more gray than normal.

Archie tried not to look offended. He had worked hard and was proud of his efforts. “It’s this or another night hungry,” he shrugged. “I’ll cut the meat and cook it on the fire.”

“Is iguana even edible?” Betty blanched, looking at the large green reptile in his hands.

“Oh yeah,” Archie nodded. “They are high in protein, more so than chicken. People in Florida eat these puppies all the time when they are weight training! They even call it chicken of the trees!”

Betty grabbed at her stomach as Veronica took deep breaths in and out through her nose as Archie looked hopefully back at Jughead.

“Fuck it,” he sighed. “We’re eating iguana tonight.”

It turned out, surprisingly, that iguana _did_ in fact taste like chicken. The girls sat in the plane, no doubt talking about the hickeys that littered Betty’s neck, while Archie and Jughead prepared the meal. Betty had said that she understood that if she was going to eat it she should be able to kill and prepare it, but she just wasn’t there yet.

With lessons from Fred while hunting and camping, Archie and Jughead were surprisingly efficient. While Archie heated up water in a container they found in the plane and hung it over a makeshift stick above the fire with some water in it, Jughead cleaned the iguana’s body to remove any bacteria. He also thanked it for its sacrifice, just for good measure, and because that’s what people seemed to do in movies where they foraged and killed.

After, Archie spent a good deal of time removing the organs and insides, ensuring it was cleaned before cutting it up into smaller pieces. Roasting it over a spit at that point would have been easiest, but he didn’t think the girls could handle eating iguana if it still looked like an iguana. He put the small pieces in the now boiling water to cook until the meat began to separate from the cartilage. After about an hour, satisfied it was thoroughly cooked, he and Jug skewered the pieces on sticks, hoping the idea of kabobs would seem more appealing to the girls.

When Betty and Veronica joined them around the fire they all stared at the meat. Archie and Jughead, ravenous from days living off of fruit, dug right in as Betty and Veronica watched. As the boys hummed in appreciation and dug in as if this meal was a culinary delight, Betty and Veronica stared down at their own kabobs, their mouths salivating, but their brains interfering.

“Tastes like chicken,” Jughead offered as he devoured another bite.

With a deep breath, Betty and Veronica knocked their sticks in a mock ‘cheers’ before biting a mouthful of the meat, groaning as the food hit their tongues before digging in insatiably. A while later, laying in the plane with their bellies full, they huddled up in a big group, clinging tight to one another after a back-breaking and burdensome day.

“Guys,” Veronica whispered into the dark. “We ate a fucking iguana tonight.” 

The laughter that chorused around the plane was infectious. Maybe, just _maybe_ , they would be alright after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading you wonderful humans! I’m having so much fun researching and writing this story. I love myself a good thriller with a hint of romance that takes me to places outside of my normal travels. I appreciate all the love you guys leave! And I appreciate Jandy so much- she is has been encouraging me for almost two years now I think! Thank you!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of fun in an otherwise grim existence.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/192454274@N08/51010198772/in/album-72157718550812672/)

  
“The paradox of trauma is that it has both the power to destroy and the power to transform and resurrect.” - Peter A. Levine

**Somewhere off the coast of Chile**

The night after their reptilian feast, they had all woke up in better moods. Their slumber had only been interrupted by a single nightmare, and Jughead had pulled Betty close to his chest and she had drifted back to sleep at once. 

Betty had slipped away wordlessly just shortly after sunrise. Time was funny on the island. At home, if they didn’t have work they would settle in late and wake up later as well. Here things ran on more of a sun-up to sun-down schedule. Stepping into her shoes, she pecked Jughead on the shoulder and headed outside. She told herself to walk and stay calm, but her nerves and anticipation got the best of her and she began to jog, frowning at the sharp pains that radiated up through her leg before slowing the pace to a stroll. 

When she reached the V trap they had dug the day before, she folded her hands over her face and began to cry. Just as they had hoped, when the tide left, a number of fish were trapped by their structure; merluza, reineta, jurel, and salmon lay in the sand, ready to be cooked. Clams, muscles, and oysters were also left behind by the tide. Betty had never loved seafood. The smell alone was enough to make her wretch, but now they seemed like a delicacy.

“Told you so,” a jovial voice called from behind her.

Betty turned to find Jughead, hands on his hips, smiling at the bountiful food before him. 

“My girlfriend is a genius,” he smiled, pulling her in for a not-so-quick morning kiss.

“Girlfriend, huh?” Betty teased, allowing him to kiss her again, languidly yet deep.

“Gross,” Archie yelled from the base of the plane. “I don’t need to see you attempting to devour Betty before breakfast.”

“Yeah, well you’re gonna want to kiss her too when you see what breakfast has to offer,” Jughead yelled back, grabbing their attention.

They celebrated for a while, cooking some fish for breakfast. Archie and Jughead hung the others over a flame to dry out, hoping to preserve the meat for a few days since fresh fish degenerate quickly. After a breakfast of coquito, berries, and their catch, Archie, who despite another good meal still looked more pale and gaunt than he should after days of sun exposure, insisted on digging more traps between the beach and the waterfall. They had planned to hike out and refill their water jugs that afternoon anyway, the path now a bit easier to manage since they had flattened and trampled down the foliage on the way. 

Betty and Veronica loaded up their bags with the empty containers. They also carried two long tree limbs on their shoulders, with ropes tied around each in several places. They would attach the water containers to these on the way home so that they could support the weight easier. With the four of them distributing the weight of the water, carrying it back would go much faster.

Between the beach and the falls, Archie and Jughead dug out six more traps, sharpening sticks with Jughead’s pocket knife that they collected along the way. The sandy soil was malleable and they didn’t encounter too much rock, making the process a bit smoother than they had expected, but still overly laborious. Betty and Veronica had gone on ahead and had filled all of the water jugs, attaching them to the strings. By the time the boys had joined them, they had also set up ten more bottle fish traps along the stream in hopes for another spot to catch fish.

“Take a break and a swim?” Veronica suggested when they had arrived and the boys, sore and hot, heartily agreed.

Rather than exhaust themselves further, they opted to find stationary spots. With the water rushing past, and bubbling at the top. Jughead dared to slip his hand onto Betty’s thigh, stifling a grin as he slid it higher and higher, but not quite high enough. He let it rest there, tickling her skin as his thumb rubbed circles back and forth.

“This isn’t so bad,” Betty smiled as they sat in the stream, their backs resting against a rock congregation in a shallow area as the clean water rushed over them. She shifted a bit, her skin goosebumps from his touch, but he didn’t relent. “I mean, I feel a bit accomplished. Four friends who flew out of New York City have somehow managed to survive on a deserted island this long. What friends can say they’ve had  _ that _ bonding experience?”

Jughead scoffed and raised both brows. “I have to say I’m surprised. It goes to show you that everything is about the company you keep. Time passes here so fast with you guys but one hour in an escape room with Sweat Pea and Reggie last year for Archie’s annual crew bonding outing and I wanted to maroon them on an island myself.”

Archie nodded heavily in agreement as Veronica squinted and bit at her lip, her fingers playing and twirling the tips of her raven hair.

“Oh no,” Betty said, drawing her voice out in mock worry. “I’ve seen that expression before, V. You’re scheming, aren’t you?”

Veronica offered an innocent smile and a shrug before flicking her hair back behind her shoulders. “I may be...percolating on an idea. What you said about four friends from New York defying all odds struck a nerve. We’ve been working so hard  _ to live _ that we haven’t really even been  _ living _ . We missed New Year’s Eve, a chance for resolutions and change. I think we deserve to celebrate a little.”

“If I’m not mistaken, Cristal doesn’t exactly grow on trees around here,” Jughead snarked. “What do you suggest?”

“Well, Mr. Doom and Gloom, I suggest that for tonight we stop worrying about  _ everything _ and have some fun. We can’t drink the alcohol we have because we need it to clean wounds, but we can have a fish feast, set some romantic fires, dress up, dance a little, maybe play some games…”

She shrugged sheepishly, wondering if her ideas were juvenile and dumb considering their circumstances but Betty grabbed her hand and squeezed it hard.

“I think that could be just what we need to blow off some steam,” Betty agreed. “Tonight it’s New, New Year’s Eve and we’re going to celebrate being alive! We can make it a night of…  _ firsts. _ ”

Her meaning didn’t go unnoticed by Jughead and he squeezed her thigh hard, unintentionally, his own body now on high alert.

They left the stream as they began to grow chilly and ate some lunch at their favorite spot behind the waterfall. With a plan hatched, Veronica insisted she needed some supplies and demanded Archie take her into the forest to find flowers to decorate the beach. He obliged, claiming he needed to check the traps anyway.

The moment they were out of sight, Betty turned and pinned Jughead back to the wall, kissing him hard until she was breathless.

“We're actually alone. They will be gone for at least twenty minutes if not thirty,” she breathed out heavily, sucking a red mark into the side of his neck. She didn’t worry about hickeys here. There was no societal faux pas on the island.

“Wait,” Jughead said, though quite reluctantly. “Just, slow down, okay?”

Betty pulled back, a bit surprised and embarrassed. Here she was ready to jump his bones and he was telling her to stop. “Slow down? I’m sorry. Have I misread things? I thought you wanted…”

Jughead’s eyes flew open wide and his hands gripped her hips with bruising force. “I did! I do! Betty, I  _ very  _ much do if the way I was creeping up your leg before was any indication.”

Wrinkling up her bottom lip, Betty shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest. “Then what is it?”

“I just- I want to make love to you,” he said as if that explained it all.

“I mean, that’s what I was trying to do,” Betty replied dryly, not understanding him at all.

“No- not like we were… I just, have you ever made love, Betts?”

“Are you serious right now, Jug?” Betty chortled, tossing her head back in partial disbelief. “Did you really think I’d never… I mean you were  _ there _ the morning I walk-of-shamed it back to the dorm and cried in Ronnie’s room for an hour.”

“No Betty, I didn’t mean… I knew that you… I wasn’t trying to insinuate you’d never had sex. I just-”

“Well, then what’s the issue?” Betty pressed, her face soft but a little upset. “Do you… not want me… like that?”

“God, Betty!” Jughead gushed out, trying to reassure her. “Of course I do! How could I  _ not _ ? You’re beautiful. That was not my point at all.”

Betty crossed her arms again, beginning to feel a bit self-conscious. “Then what  _ was _ your point, Jug?”

“My point was I wanted to make love to you, Betty! And when I hear how it sounds now I feel like some pining, dreamy female from a Jane Austen novel and I’m not exactly sure how to interpret that, but it’s what  _ I _ want and what I want for  _ you _ . I don’t  _ just _ want to have sex with you.”

When she still looked puzzled, he fumbled with his words in an attempt to further explain his rationale.

“I’ve had sex and... it’s fine. But I have waited seven years for you, Betty, and I don’t just want it to happen.”

Betty smirked and placed a hand on his cheek, loving the soft sentiment behind his words. “Then what  _ do  _ you want, Jug? Flowers? Candles?”

Jughead rubbed at the back of his neck, his cheeks red with a combination of embarrassment and nerves. “Time? Sex is about getting off, right? 

“I should hope so,” Betty teased.

“But making love is about the moment. It’s about the way you sigh when I kiss your neck. It’s about how your flesh gets goosebumps when I graze your ribs. It’s about tracing the freckle on your hip so I can sketch it when I’m lonely. It’s… it’s about moving so slowly when we do join together, our lips sharing the fraction of air that can fit between us as we watch each other at that moment, knowing how vulnerable that makes us. I want every bit of you, physically and cognitively in the moment.”

“Jug,” Betty breathed, her voice catching in her throat. 

He palmed her cheeks and pressed his forehead to her own. “I want to make love to you because after seven years, it’s what we deserve- not for our first time to be a quick bang up against a mountain.”

Betty just stared at him for a moment with her jaw slack before reacting. “Well fuck, Jug! You can’t just go and say something beautiful like that and expect me  _ not _ to want to jump you even more now!”

Jughead grinned, pressing a kiss to her cheek and dragging his lips up to bite at the lobe of her ear, soothing the nip with his tongue. 

“I promise it will be worth the wait,” he whispered sultrily with an unusual air of aplomb, before pulling back and standing up, heading back out to the lake to check for fish.

“Where are you going?” she yelled after him, chuckling as he tripped and almost fell over a log.

“I’m going away. Far away… from you. I have above-average self-restraint, Betts, but I’m only human.”

Betty grinned as he gave a final wave before heading towards the lake to check the traps. She had always known he was deep, a tender heart in a roughly wrapped package, but she had no idea that being on the receiving end of him would feel so exhaustive and profound. He hadn’t said ‘I love you’ yet, but he wanted to make love to her. Maybe tonight would be the night, if not, it would be soon and she was more than ready to open her heart to him.

.....

**Riyadh, Saudi Arabia**

They touched down around eleven in the morning, a week after hatching their original plan. While Bühler was good, sneaking five people into Saudi Arabia without being detected wasn’t exactly a spoonful of sugar. They needed to alter their identities, secure false travel documents, craft cover stories, and also find a contact to help them travel discreetly.

There was great risk in their plan’s execution. Entering the country undocumented came with dangerous possibilities, mainly if they were discovered, no one would even know where to begin looking for them for rescue. As far as their official travel documents were concerned, they were still in Switzerland. Also, entering undetected required an inside man, one that Bühler  _ barely _ trusted. There was a distinct possibility they were being set up, hoping to take down Hiram, and by default, the rest of them as well.

For this reason, Bühler insisted their contact meet them in public, the crowded Dirah Souk market, which sat next to Masmak Fort, an old mud-brick structure built by King Abdulaziz Al Saud to control Riyadh back in 1865. Tourists and residents alike shop in the crowded, historic market.

Stands with racks and rows of abayas cluttered the storefronts as people haggled, talking down the price of the garments as the smells of the Saudi Kabsa spice, Oud perfume, and tons of date jams wafted through the streets along with Bakhoor burning and scenting the air with various musks and oils that each shop chose. All of the layered fragrances were complimentary, notes of florals and woody smell blended together to perfume the air. Ornate and intricate rugs from Azerbaijan, Dallah’s, and mounted Khandjar’s were a sight for the eyes, as were the colorful scarves, jewelry, knock-off shoes, and plenty of bags littered the shops as well. 

Bühler didn’t want them to stick out as a giant tourist group and had told them to split up and blend in, awaiting a text for where to meet up once he spotted his man. Hiram and Fred purchased some Arabic coffee, sipping as they pretended to chat, while Alice and FP casually browsed a shop. Alice stopped to purchase some camel milk chocolate and camel milk soap and FP scoffed out a laugh.

“Women. We are on a job and in mortal danger and here you are shopping.”

Alice snapped her head and shot him a generous glare, paying for her items before twisting FP’s arm back faster than he could process before growling in his ear. “I’m shopping because we are supposed to blend in, you overgrown man-child. And we are in a market and in markets, you shop. You don’t stare around, looking back and forth, like a man on a mission. God, you must have been an awful gang leader.”

She let go of his arm, dropping it before sucking in a breath and frowning. “Besides, Betty loves handmade things and this will be right up her alley. I bought these for her… when I find her.”

“When  _ we _ find  _ them _ ,” FP said staunchly, almost like a promise. “And you’re right. I’m sorry. I’m a bit out of my element here and you’re so calm and collected. You’re- a bit intimidating, Alice Cooper. You’re really something.”

“Thank you, FP, but I’m not sleeping with you.”

Simultaneously both of their phones went off, vibrating in their pockets

“It’s Bühler,” Alice breathed out anxiously. “He said that there is an alley in between the perfumery and the coffee roasting pans. Be there in two minutes.”

They walked past where Hiram and Fred stood, keeping their eyes straight ahead, and once they passed by the two men left the stand, following behind them until they all passed the perfume shop in question and turned down the side alley. Bühler was waiting, hidden under the cover of an awning.

“So where is the contact of yours?” Hiram snapped impatiently, looking over his shoulder. He felt exposed out in the light of day and in the busy city streets. Usually, Hiram preferred to call the shots and control the narrative, but here he had no pull. Almost as soon as he spoke, a dark-haired man, smirking, emerged from behind the shadows with a pistol in hand. Bühler was still visibly tense and moved over to stand by him, shaking hands.

“Saad,” Bühler nodded. “How are you? It’s good to see you again, my friend.” He turned to Hiram, Alice, Fred, and FP. “Not so good for you, I’m afraid.”

Alice chortled, looking up at the sky while shaking her head. “It’s a setup. We should've known. All of my instincts told me you were trouble, Bühler.”

Fred looked between Bühler and Alice, at a bit of a loss. “I don’t understand. Why would you set us up? We just want to find our children.”

“To keep me alive, friend,” Bühler shrugged sadly. “It was me or Hiram. Unfortunately, all of you came as collateral damage.”

From the sides in the shadows, they noticed more figures approaching. Alice looked up at FP with one pointed look and he nodded back down at her. Immediately, Alice burst into hysterics covering her face as she hunched over, sobbing uncontrollably. On unsteady feet, she stumbled forward, grabbing at one of the men.

“Please! Please, I just want to find my daughter! My beautiful daughter! She’s innocent and good and we have nothing to do with any of this please I just-”

As quickly as her waterworks began, they ceased and she stood up, turning and grabbing one of the pans for coffee from the stand nearby, swinging it hitting the man in the face, knocking him to the ground. At the same moment, FP turned and did the same, taking down another two of the guards. Fred stood by, astonished for a split second, but though he was kind-hearted he was no stranger to danger. Springing into action, he tackled one of the men with the pistols, the gun pointing upwards into the air and firing, drawing attention from the nearby crowd.

“Run!” FP screamed as Alice took a final jab at Bühler before gripping FP’s hand and heading off into the crowded streets of Riyadh. The mid-day crowds in Dirah Souk allowed for some protection at first as the men on the ground remobilized and began their pursuit. Alice ruffled through her bag as they ran, pulling white fabrics with black cords.

“Put these on!” she yelled, holding them out. “We need to blend in and they will be looking for tourists in the crowd since they can only see the tops of our heads, not men in Keffiyehs.”

“How did you…” Fred asked as he secured the garment.

“Always be prepared,” Alice panted as they ran, wrapping a scarf around her very visible blonde hair. “And always expect the worst. I learned that from my ex-husband.”

Shouts and crashes resounded behind them as the men shoved through the crowd, Bühler no doubt with them as well. If he didn’t find Hiram, it would be  _ his  _ head on a spike, but the sheer number of people and cars made the chase a large game of Where’s Waldo. Alice slowed her pace and her comrades did the same, disappearing into the crowded streets. At a quick, but the slower pace, she made her way to the road’s edge and hailed a cab, which was thankfully abundant in Riyadh.

As they piled inside and pulled away, they saw Bühler’s panicked and angry face searching through the market, tossing his hat to the ground in frustration.

“Holy shit,” FP laughed out. “What the hell was that? A brawl, and gun, and a chase through a foreign country? I feel like I’m in some international thriller.”

“That’s because you are,” Alice sighed, rolling her eyes. “And all of you are useless. I’m not sure what you would have done if I wasn’t here.”

Fred scoffed, staring out the window in anger. “Yeah, well I’m not sure what we’re going to do now. We’re here illegally, being hunted, and now we have no way to know who these men are and how to find the kids!”

Hiram was surprisingly quiet. Externally, he seemed composed and in thought, but internally he was reciting a mantra over and over: ‘ _ This is all your fault. _ ’

Alice rooted through her bag again and pulled out her cell phone, opening up an app. “Relax,” she said calmly. “I’m a reporter and this isn’t my first rodeo. If you thought the only thing I brought with me was a gun, then none of you have given me enough credit.”

A tiny green dot blinked on her phone, moving back and forth across a map of Riyadh.

“Is that-”

“Bühler?” Alice finished. “Yep. While all of you dozed on the plane at one point or another, I installed tracking software on your phones in case we got separated, kidnapped, or double-crossed. Since they don’t have Hiram, they are going to take in Bühler. We just need to watch and see where he goes and that’s where we find the answers we need.’   
  


All three men stared at Alice, partly in shock and intimidation, but also with a healthy dose of admiration.

“Marry me?” FP asked, half-seriously as Alice wrinkled up her nose and lip.

“Please,” she groaned. “The faster we find our kids, the faster I can forget we met. After this, I hope to never see you again.”

.....

**Somewhere off the coast of Chile**

Archie and Ronnie had been gone for about half an hour when they returned with armfuls of vines and flowers. Veronica draped her party decor over their water jug contraption so they could carry them back to camp. The traps were empty, but they weren’t surprised. They had only dug them out a while ago and they were making so much noise at the stream that it was expected for animals to avoid the area. What they hadn’t expected was such a prosperous catch back at camp. The four of them had shouldered and heaved tons of clean water back to the beach. Just before the line where the sand met grass and tree, Archie’s trap lay exposed, a guanaco prone down in the hole.

“It’s fully grown,” Archie had jabbered excitedly. “If we dry this out, do you know how much meat that is?”

Through his excitement, Archie also looked tired and drawn. Jughead examined his friend carefully, looking at him quizzically with a tilt of his head.

“I’m good, Jug,” Archie declared, knowing exactly what he was thinking. “I’m just exhausted from all the digging and the motion aggravates my sides.”

“Want me to take a look? I can clean-”

“I’m handling it,” he said adamantly. “We should get this meat out and start smoking it before it goes bad.”

“Iguana for dinner last night, fish for breakfast, and now some form of Chilean… llama for dinner,” Veronica sighed. “I feel like I’m at the world’s most peculiar rodizio establishment.”

Archie and Jughead took a while to hoist the animal from the hole in the ground. They were both aching and it was quite heavy, dead weight below them. Veronica had wanted to get started decorating and Archie had told her to go ahead, insisting that at least Betty stay behind to watch them take care of the guanaco’s preparation. She wrinkled up her face and rubbed her tongue between her teeth, her abhorrence of the idea clear, but Archie insisted.

“What if something were to happen to me or Jug?” Archie argued. “This kind of stuff is critical to survival and you all need to know how to skin, clean, and dry the meat.”

Though Archie wasn’t wrong, Jughead couldn’t help but think his friend was acting odd and made a mental note to check in with him later. Betty had never been squeamish around blood in her youth, but after the string of incidents with her father, the blood and gore seemed to trigger her. Jughead could sense this and kept her close by, smoothing his hand over her back or her knee whenever Archie made a new cut.

Similar to the iguana, they cleaned the animal before Archie skinned and cleaned out the insides. Betty ran to the tree line to vomit at one point, Jughead rubbing her back as Archie insisted she return and watch the process until the end. This time he didn’t cut up the meat but tied it around a tree limb over the fire to slowly cook and dry out. The whole process took about an hour and he said the meat would need to cook for a few hours before they could try it and overnight before it dried for storing.

By the time they were done Veronica had returned, gushing about the way she decorated by the largest fire and the huts while Betty glared at her, stomach still churning. Veronica, either oblivious or pretending not to notice, went on discussing the menu. 

“We’ll have some yummy oysters to start,” she jabbered, watching their kill cook over the flames. “They’re a perfect appetizer and an aphrodisiac… you’re welcome Jughead.”

Betty narrowed her lips as Jughead chortled, glancing over at Betty. Veronica always did have a tendency to take things  _ too _ far at times.

“We’ll set out a fruit platter, of course, and maybe some salmon with this furry mammal you’re currently blistering over those flames.” She pressed her clasped hands to her lips and exhaled, feeling exhilarated by the thought of a party. “Now, I’ve laid out some clothes for you at the huts, boys. Betty and I are getting ready in the plane. You can pick us up there in two hours.”

“Should I have the limo honk?” Jughead deadpanned. “Or should we come to the door?”

Betty bit her lip and stifled a laugh as she looked up at Jughead through her eyelashes, watching him shrink into the distance with his goofy grin as Veronica linked her arm and pulled her towards the plane, glaring back at a Jughead all the way.

“Two hours, gentlemen!” she warned.

Jughead glanced over at Archie and tossed him a sympathetic look. “You sure you’re ready for a lifetime of Lodge shenanigans?”

Archie’s first instinct was to laugh, but the mirth faded quickly and his face soon became serious. “I’ll take every second I have with her, Jug. And I won’t take them for granted, even when she’s a mini Mussolini.”

Jughead stood up taller, watching the shadows cross Archie’s face as he watched the girls bopping towards the plane. “I’m glad you and Betty finally allowed yourselves to be happy.”

Grabbing the knife they had been cutting the guanaco with, Archie strode off towards Hortencia, tossing the knife at her as he stared out over the sea. Every instinct he had told Jughead to go and talk to him, but he allowed him his space, opting instead to go make a bouquet of flowers for Betty. Technically, it was their first date and he wanted to make a good impression in the romance department. Grabbing some of Veronica’s unused flowers, he bound them together, semi-satisfied with his work. For good measure, he crafted a second bouquet. He wouldn't let Archie catch shit for showing up empty-handed while he was off, sulking and melancholy.

…..

“Put this perfume on, B,” Veronica insisted.

“Seriously?” Betty had laughed, shaking her dead in disbelief. “Half the  _ useful _ supplies on the plane were decimated, but your bottle of perfume somehow managed to survive?

“First of all, this is  _ not _ just perfume. This is Chanel No. 5 and as Coco Chanel once said, ‘A woman who doesn’t wear perfume has no future’ so maybe this perfume was  _ key _ to our survival… and you getting some.”

Betty hung her jaw in dismay, but her eyes were full of merriment as she told Veronica to stop. 

“You say stop to my teasing, but you didn’t deny what may be in the cards for the evening,” Veronica winked. “Why do you think I planned this little date night… to set the mood.”

“Veronica!” Betty scolded her. “I don’t need you arranging my… sexy times! You’re not my pimp!”

Veronica rolled her eyes and dabbed some perfume onto Betty’s neck. “Oh, I’m sorry. How many gentlemen callers have penetrated the sacred space that is your bedroom chambers in the past two years?”

“First off,” Betty grimaced. “Using penetrated in that sentence just makes it sound so much worse, and secondly, just because I choose to keep my… chambers private doesn’t mean I need you to orchestrate my intimacy.”

Veronica tilted her head in possible agreement, reconsidering her word choice, as she held up two tubes of lipstick to Betty. They had salvaged dresses from their luggage, tossed about in the below-cabin storage. Veronica’s was short and black, much like her personal aesthetic- keep things classy and simple. Betty’s was emerald green, not quite as fitted, but still flattering in all the right ways.

“But… you are going for gold tonight? Is that what I hear between your ungrateful jibber-jabber? Will tonight be the debut confluence between your parts and those of our resident long-winded, erudite wordsmith?”

Betty blushed from behind the tube of pink lipstick, and Veronica tapped her feet and tossed her fists in the air.

“Only you, Betty Cooper, would end an epic dry spell while a castaway on a deadly paradise.”

Betty shrugged and handed Veronica the lipstick to store in her travel bag. “I like to make things memorable, V. Besides, after seven years of disastrous relationships of plane-wreck proportions, I’d say this situation is apropos.”

…..

Archie and Jughead had put on the button-downs Veronica had left out for them, opting to wear their jeans rather than swim trunks. When they were working on the beach all day, their swimsuits were their preferred bottoms of choice, but the nights by the coast were chilly with the wind off the sea and they figured Veronica would annihilate them if they showed up in trunks anyway. 

Getting ready back in New York for a date didn’t take them very long, and here on the island there was even less to take care of. The girls would probably take twice as long as normal, trying to appear as if they weren’t bathing in streams and brushing their hair with a half-broken hairbrush.

With time to kill, they had rolled up their jeans and waded into the ocean, long sticks in hand with sharp points at the end. It had become a little game of theirs, attempting to spear a fish like true wild-men, though neither of them had succeeded. Jughead had almost speared his own foot once, so that was something. He watched a small, bluefish flit about his ankles, staying as still as possible for now while it explored, waiting for the right moment.

“So, big night tonight, huh?” Archie asked, the little blue flush swimming away when Jughead jerked to the side to look at him.

“A lot to celebrate, I guess, with the fish and the charred up non-llama,” he shrugged, knowing that wasn’t what Archie meant.

“You know, once when we had been drinking, on a  _ rare _ night when you actually had more than I did, you confessed your feelings to me,” Archie said, watching his friend thoughtfully.

Jughead whipped his head back and arched an eyebrow. Exactly how much had he been drinking? “Listen, Arch, I  _ rarely  _ imbibe, to begin with, but to confess feelings for you I  _ must _ have eaten the tequila worm and been hallucinating in the  _ worst _ way.”

Archie jabbed at a fish in the water, missing, before shaking his head. “Not for me, bro. Your feelings for Betty. You spent an hour talking about how some God-dude Helios had woven her hair with threads from a Golden Fleece.”

Jughead grimaced. That did sound like him.

“When I dragged your sad ass to bed, tucking you in at your request, by the way, you got all pouty and sullen and you told me that Betty came from the actual sun and your past was a storm cloud so wide that it darkened everything in its path. I tried to convince you otherwise, that Betty had her fair share of darkness and you had ways of lighting her up, but you wouldn’t hear it.”

Jughead had abandoned his attempts to spear a fish and was staring out over the water as the horizon. It seemed to go on forever, like his old life was in an entirely other world, one much less beautiful and simple. One that was complicated with interference from so many people.

“Why?” Jughead asked gruffly after a few moments. “Why are you telling me this?”

Archie turned towards shore and waded out of the water, spiking his spear into the ground before rolling his pant legs back down. Jughead followed his cue, his focus clouded and he wouldn’t be able to catch a fish anyway, not that he ever had. 

“I’m telling you this because after all we’ve been through, we wouldn’t have survived without each other. Your presence here only made Betty’s life better. You act like she’s sunshine, but she’s had just as much darkness in her past, if not more. Have you told her you love her yet? And I mean for real, not the night where she was delirious.”

“Not yet,” Jughead replied, not even bothering to deny his feelings any longer. Archie had heard him the night Betty he almost died anyway. “I’m going to do it tonight.”

Archie smiled, a truly happy grin that burst across his face and he punched Jughead in the shoulder. “I’m happy for you, bro. Truly. I’ve been waiting for you both to stop doubting yourselves and just give in.”

Jughead grinned, quite goofily, and shook his head, picking up the two bouquets of flowers he made and handing one to Archie.

“Why do you care so much, Arch?” Jughead shrugged. “I know we’re your friends, but you seem a little… relieved.”

Archie tightened his jaw and looked down at the sand. “Life is fragile, Jug. I think what’s gone on here has me realizing that, more than I ever considered before. I just… I want to know that my two best friends are happy and taken care of.”

Jughead frowned, something in Archie’s voice deeply disturbing him, but before he could think lucidly about it Archie began to walk towards the plane, tossing the last remark over his shoulder as he did so.

“If anything ever happened to me, you’d take care of Ronnie, right? You and Betty would be there for her?”

Squinting in confusion, Jughead realized it was a serious question. “Of course, Arch. Always.”

Seemingly satisfied, Archie continued his walk towards their dates, Jughead taking a few long steps to catch up to him. Archie had been acting oddly for two days now. He had been so strong, but perhaps now PTSD was setting in.

…..

The girls were ready and waiting when they arrived. Betty was ready to hop down from the plane at once but Veronica demanded the boys work for their affections.

Picking up pebbles from the sand, Jughead tossed them up at the plane, knocking at the side of the metal frame.

“Ladies!” he called up. “Will you honor us with your presence on this island prison.” He coughed as Archie elbowed him in an injured rib. “I mean, island paradise.”

Veronica grinned and nodded. Betty climbed out first, Jughead helping her down, with V right behind her.

Archie, who was practiced and rehearsed in Lodge-required romance, made a big show of dropping to his knee, grimacing only slightly, and presenting Veronica with the flowers, his fiancé happily accepting.

Jughead was a bit shyer with an audience, awkwardly holding out the bouquet and rubbing the back of his head. “You look beautiful, Betty,” he smirked.

“Thank you, Juggie.” Betty smiled as she took the flowers, sniffing them before lacing her fingers through his own. “So, where are we going for dinner,” she teased. “Somewhere romantic?”

Veronica and Archie had already headed over to the table she had set earlier, which was a metal sheet from the plane’s side balanced on two logs and covered with palm leaves, and Jughead gestured towards it. “I’ve booked us a very romantic and private dining experience, with locally sourced cuisine and island flare.”

They both rolled their eyes and laughed, thinking how much a dining view like this would cost on an island like Kauai or Maui.

“I can’t wait to sample the exotic menu,” Betty teased. “You know, there was a time I wouldn’t even eat a cheeseburger if it had a hint of pink in it. Now I’m eating… you know, I don’t actually want to know.”

They all settled at the table and Archie and Jughead placed cuts of guanaco meat, fish, and fruit on their palm leaves, each with a bottle of water filled from the falls.

Veronica raised her water bottle and turned serious before they began to eat. “Thank you for indulging me in this not-quite-New-Years dinner that we’re also having nowhere near midnight. Whether you believe it or not, I’d like to take a silent moment to thank God for this food and our lives, because I’m quite frankly flabbergasted that we are all still mobile.”

They all sat in quiet reflection for a minute, whether in prayer or just internal monologue about life, before Veronica cleared her throat.

“Happy New Year. There is no one else on the planet I’d rather celebrate with,” she said solemnly, toasting them each. They clinked bottles and sipped their water before digging in. The guanaco meat turned out to be juicy and tender. Archie had squeezed fruit juices along the spit as it cooked and the citrus flavors really enhanced the smokiness of the meat. It was amazing that something tasted so delicious without any true seasonings. The fish was a bit chewier, having been slow-cooked to dry out for so long, but they ate heartily, needing to keep up their strength. Stuffed and satisfied, they snacked on the fruits as a dessert before Veronica announced that it was time for some dancing.

With splints on, crutches reserved for their longer hikes only, they looked like a band of wooden puppets, awkwardly swaying to the sounds of the breeze.

“V,” Betty laughed. “Without music, this feels like some odd orchestrated production in a park.”

Veronica inhaled deeply, playing with the huts at the back of Archie’s neck. “Just go with it, B. Use your imagination. I’m pretending we’re dancing at our wedding, cameras flashing, my gown flowing, and Archiekins looking dapper in his tuxedo, his eyes only for me.”

They twirled around, dancing goofily as Archie began to sing love ballads loudly, all of them joining in an off-key acapella performance.

“This is our first dance,” Jughead whispered in the middle of Archie’s rendition of ‘ _ Unchained Melod _ y’. “I hope that doesn’t make this our song. Though, I have to say holding you is so nice that I’d even dance to that Twilight shit if that’s what you wanted.”

Betty wrinkled up her nose and pulled him closer, pressing their foreheads together. “Definitely not. I don’t think this fits us at all. We’re a bit less traditional- maybe ‘ _ Amazed’ _ by Poe?”

“Good choice,” he nodded. “Or how about ‘ _ Tonight, Tonight _ ’ by Smashing Pumpkins?”

“Mmm,” she hummed as they swayed. “That might also be our perfect, imperfect anthem. File it away in case we ever get off this island.”

“Noted,” Jughead chuckled. “I promise you wine, mood-lighting, and disgustingly adorable slow dancing in the kitchen as soon as we reach civilization and my leg isn’t throbbing every time we sway.”

Betty chortled. “I’ll hold you to that, and I agree. My leg is throbbing. Do you think Veronica would let us stop dancing yet?”

“Fine, party-poopers,” Veronica yelled. “The breeze carries everything you say around here. We could hear your whole conversation. Archie and I think you’re more  _ At Last _ ’ by Etta James because it took you forever to get to this point. 

Betty and Jughead looked at each other and blanched. “Sorry, V. Way too conventional and cliche for us. But since you were listening, does this mean we can stop dancing?

…..

“Twenty questions?” Veronica suggested when they had crashed down on the sand, tired of trying to dance on injured limbs. They tossed off their makeshift braces, satisfied to sit and let their limbs relax for a while.

“Is there really anything we don’t know about each other at this point?” Archie asked, tiredly. “I feel like I could answer for each of you.”

Veronica waved him off and pulled up her knees, wrapping her arms around them tightly. “Shush, Archiekins. I’ll start. Jughead… what’s the first thing you’re going to eat when we get back to New York?”

Truthfully, Archie was right. They could easily answer every question for each other in  _ normal  _ circumstances, but the island lent itself to new questions.

“Ohhhh,” Jughead moaned. “It’s honestly cruel to even make me  _ think _ about actual food right now. On a scale of one to ten, how gluttonous would it be to take a pizza, add some Buffalo chicken, and use it as a wrap around a cheeseburger? Because that’s where I’m at right now.”

They all heartily agreed, tossing in their own dinner dreams around the fire. 

“Pad Thai,” Betty said dreamily.

Archie drooled just thinking of his meal. “A juicy steak with mashed potatoes.”

“Foie gras with dried figs and dates,” Veronica moaned out separately, shooting them all a dirty look when they stared at her. “What? I will not be demeaned for wanting a dignified meal with real table linens and glassware in a Rococo setting! No one blinked an eye when Jones wanted a burger wrapped in a pizza.”

“That’s because pizza is delicious,” Jughead teased. “And so are burgers. Moving on, Archie, since our vacation turned into a total annihilation of our original plans, where will you vacation next, you know, once we work through the PTSD that will inevitably set in once this is all done.”

Archie lowered his jaw, crunching his tongue between his lips as he stared out over the sea. He stayed that way for a few seconds, long enough to cause his friends to worry.

“Arch?” Jughead pressed, his voice snapping Archie back into reality.

“I don’t know, man,” he shrugged. “Wherever Ron wants. She should get to see the things and places that make her happy.”

Veronica pouted, but it was more in the form of endearment as her eyes softened. “Archiekins,” she cooed. “That’s the most beautiful sentiment, but I also want to see you happy. What would bring you the most joy?”

Archie’s jaw clenched again and he grinned his teeth, staring down at the sand. “I guess just visiting my Dad, honestly. Another camping trip with him. I don’t have any grand plans for later. I just want everyone I love to be happy.”

“Arch,” Betty smiled, reaching over to sweet end his knee. “Who knew that guy freshman year with the guitar, who confused vicious and viscous during freshmen lit, would wind up being such a sap?”

Archie gave her a half-grin as they all laughed, hashing out how Archie told the professor he didn’t do his paper because he was attacked by a  _ viscous _ fox jogging that morning. Somewhere in the midst of their joviality, Jughead wrapped an arm around Betty’s shoulders, tugging her closer to him. His hand drifted to her knee where he began to draw little circles on her kneecap, taking her back to their encounter at the falls.

“Enough teasing my fiancé, Betty!” Veronica chirped. “If you could be doing  _ anything _ in the world right now, what would it be?”

Betty intended to give an answer, a good one, but her mind was still focused on the proximity of Jughead and his promises from earlier in the day and instead, she just blushed profusely, cursing her heritage for leaving her vulnerabilities exposed in that manner.

“Well, okay,” Veronica said approvingly. “Judging by the shade of crimson your complexion just adopted, I’m going to assume that your first answer is  _ not _ PG-13 and that, Archiekins, is where we take our leave.”

Jughead had already hinted that he and Betty may test out one of the huts for the night, allowing them to have the plane for themselves. Betty pressed her pink-hued cheeks into Jughead’s chest, a bit embarrassed as he chuckled and their friends departed to the plane.

“So is it true?” he teased, his breath tickling her ear. “Are you having some indecent thoughts, Cooper?”

Biting her lip, she smiled adorably and shrugged. “Maybe. Want to find out, Jones?”

“Let’s take a dip,” he suggested, peppering kisses on her chin, the bridge of her nose, and anywhere else he could reach. “I’m all sweaty and I’d like to not smell like B.O. the first night we get to be alone together.”

Betty wrinkled up her nose in phony disgust, but dropped her arms just the same, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards the sea. “This is reckless,” Betty said breathlessly as she dropped his hand and began to untie the halter neck of her dress. “Swimming at dusk… it’s so reckless, but I don’t care.” 

Jughead had managed to strip down to his boxers as well by the time Betty had finished pulling off her dress. They grinned coyly, and a bit shyly at each other, both waiting for the other to decide if this was as far as they’d take things. Knowing they were in danger too long in the dark waters during those twilight hours, Jughead took her hand and tugged her along. Betty let out a quick breath, seemingly a bit grateful for his choice to proceed slowly as they traversed through this new terrain together.

They only waded out far enough for the water to reach their hips, allowing the waves to brush over them as they sank into the cool blue beneath them. Jughead scrubbed at himself for a few moments and Betty took the time to do the same, shaking her head at the absurdity of it all. She used to use a standing shower at the beach before driving home and then would shower again once she arrived. Now a quick dip in the ocean constituted cleanliness. Dunking her head backward, she let the water slick back her hair, taking the days’ sweat along with it. 

Though the water wasn’t remotely warm, she luxuriated in the feeling, grateful for this time that the ocean had given to her that night when they had made a pact. Maybe she would die here. Maybe they all would, but before that could happen she at least had this. The cold was cut by a wet warmth sliding across her abdomen as Jughead wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer, allowing her to cling to him as she wrapped her legs around him while he supported them both.

“You know, if we weren’t both incredibly injured, stranded, shivering in the water, and possibly surrounded by predators, this could be considered a romantic evening under the stars,” Jughead teased.

“Oh, are those the only things wrong?” Betty joked, biting her lip at the lopsided smirk on his face. “I think it’s still the most romantic date I’ve been on. I’ve never really done the dinner and moonlight thing...more like endless wings and beer.”

Jug shook his head and grimaced. “Wow, your past dates have set the bar  _ really  _ low. I mean, I’m a weirdo and I bet I could even do better in our deserted prison.”

“I’d say you’re already doing well,” Betty hummed before she kissed him, a thrill racing through her when she felt his smile against her lips. They didn’t get too far before Jughead jumped, jostling Betty in the waves as she clung to him tighter so as not to fall. 

“Something brushed my leg,” he gagged, lifting her up under her knees and carrying her from the sea as fast as his injured body could go, Betty laughing at him the whole way.

“It’s called seaweed, Jug,” Betty teased as he settled her down. “Sharks don’t just gently brush up against you, plus the cold current here should keep the sharks away.”

“Maybe it was trying to butter me up, or lull me into a false sense of security,” he bantered, watching her shiver in the cool night breeze. “C’mon, let’s get you warm.”

They hiked up the beach and towards one of the half-finished huts, which was more like an eight-by-eight wall than anything else. One of the fires roaring out front cast a warmth through the chill of the breeze and it was a good thing since they were drenched. Before them, the sun was setting behind the waterline and they both stood shyly. Jughead offered her one of their salvaged blankets first and, without a word he turned his back to offer her privacy. Betty, blushed though she knew he couldn’t see and stepped out of her wet undergarments before wrapping herself in the blanket to warm-up. Jughead was sure she could hear the pounding of his heart over the crackling of the fire.

“Okay,” Betty said softly, wrapped up in her blanket cocoon as she sat by the fire’s edge. Jughead grabbed another blanket, this one much smaller and thinner, and wrapped it around himself the best he could before shimmying out of his own clothes and sitting down next to her. They listened to the waves crash on the shore and the sound of the jungle behind them, waking up and letting its presence be known as nighttime set in, both a little quiet as the electricity between them crackled as loud as the fire. Jughead shivered, his legs and upper body exposed to the wind and Betty frowned.

“You’re freezing, Jug,” she pouted. “You should take the larger blanket. Or we could go to the plane and see-”

“I’m honestly afraid of what I’ll see if I go to the plane right now after those two haven’t been alone in days,” he teased. “I’ll be okay, Betty. Plus, I want to be here- with you.”

Betty slid over a bit more, looking at him from under the lids of her eyes. “We...we could share. This blanket is heavy. V and I packed them for nights by the fire pit on the terrace in Switzerland.”

Jughead rubbed awkwardly at his neck, swallowing hard. There was nothing more he wanted than to crawl into the blanket but he didn’t want to appear too eager. This was, after all, new for them. “They do say body heat is the best kind of warmth,” he mumbled, eyes widening as he realized how it sounded. “Not that I expected...I hoped...I mean, we can get dressed and-”

Betty just giggled at his frantic attempt to make her feel comfortable. It was just  _ so  _ Jughead, always worried about his friends. “It’s a cold night. The body heat will help,” Betty offered to make him feel calmer. “Shall we go to the hut?”

Jughead swallowed hard again, his eyes flashing to the darkness of the hut and back to the warmth of the fire. He wasn’t sure if he was reading things right, but he hoped he was because his need to see her was overriding his instincts to be a gentleman.

“Can, uh, can we stay here for a bit?” he asked nervously. “It’s just… it’s dark in there and the fire here offers some light and I… I’d really like to see you.”

Betty read between the lines. She knew he didn’t mean her face, though she was sure he wanted to be able to look into her eyes, too. His plea was boyish and nervous and she found it endearing, especially in this context. He was asking for the firelight because he didn’t want the first time they touched to be in a darkened box, fumbling and anonymous. She realized she had been staring at him quietly for too long in consideration when he began to verbally backtrack.

“It’s okay, Betts,” he said quickly. “Whatever makes you comfortable. We don’t have to… I didn’t mean to assume…”

“Here is good,” Betty interrupted. “You’re right. The fire will be warm while our stuff dries a bit and I- I want to be able to see you, too.”

Keeping herself wrapped completely in half the throw, Betty extended her arm and a Jughead slid over, slipping underneath. He took the far edge and wrapped it over himself before shifting the smaller blanket he had over their laps for extra warmth. Once settled, he let his fingers walk their way up Betty’s fingers, wrist, forearm, and up and over her shoulder, putting his arm tightly around her.

“The last time we lay out here together I thought I was going to lose you,” Jughead confessed softly. “I thought I was going to lose you before I really even had you.”

“And you still might,” Betty smiled sadly. “Things on the island are… out of our control. That’s why we can’t waste time waiting for tomorrow. And for the record, Jug, you’ve always had me. A piece of me was always holding out for you.”

“I have a confession to make,” Jughead said, smiling sheepishly. “I’m not as brave as I’ve been pretending to be. I’ve held onto my feelings to you for a long while, tucked them away in the largest corner of my heart, too afraid of what would happen if you didn’t feel even a fraction of what I did.”

“Jug-” Betty sighed.

“No, let me get this out,” he begged. “When you were sick, your fever was raging, you thought I was Veronica. You asked me,  _ her _ , not to tell Jughead you loved him.”

Betty smiled and her eyes softened. She already knew this from Veronica, but he had asked for time to say what was on his mind and she wasn’t going to disrespect his needs.

“While you were shaking, and delirious, I held you all night, making sure I could feel the pulse in your neck against my fingers and the rise of your chest on my own because that night I finally told you.. that I love you, too. And I was _so,_ _so_ terrified that you would never hear it. That I had waited too long. I don’t want to be afraid anymore, Betty. I don’t want to wait for there to be another time where it could be our last when tomorrow isn’t promised. I love you, Betty Cooper.”

Betty choked out a happy chortle and wiped away a stray tear, illuminated by the fire as she smiled back at him, radiantly. “And I love you. I have for a very long time.”

Jughead puffed out a laugh that was more like a partial sob, his smile affectionate and gentle with an honest vulnerability. She couldn’t remember if she had ever seen him look quite so soft and at peace.

“I do love nothing in the world so well as you—is not that strange?” Jughead quoted, his voice dropping low.

“Much Ado About Nothing,” Betty smiled. “My book you squashed. You read it?”

“I confess, I read it because you had said you brought your comfort reads with you and I wanted to know what brought you comfort.”

Betty stroked at his jaw and quoted back, “I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.”

She wasn’t sure who leaned in first, but in the scheme of things, it didn’t really matter. All that mattered was his lips on hers as they continued their confessions of love in the most instinctive way possible.

Their kisses began slow and deep, the rousing slide of tongue on tongue as he pressed himself more firmly against her, carefully lowering her down onto the blanket and sand. In that first feeling of skin upon skin, they were lost. Between the anticipatory butterflies of what was to come and the euphoria of the moment, they were chemically charged, endorphins propelling them and oxytocin forbidding them from separating.

For countless minutes they just kissed, Betty’s teeth nipping at his lower lip and Jughead’s fingers tugging on her jaw when he wanted her mouth opened or angled. Raw emotion poured from their lips into one another, both almost trembling from kisses alone. Their hands had been relatively idle, gripping at shoulders and combing through hair when Jughead decided he simply couldn’t wait any longer. He thought that maybe after rejecting Betty’s advance at the waterfall, she was hesitant to make the first move again. From where his hand rested near her jaw, he let his pointer finger traced down her neck, prickling the skin as he moved, before swiping across her collarbone. Betty sucked in a quick breath, her lips halting their assault, only to watch his eyes, staring right back at her own.

“We don’t have to go any further,” Jughead offered, not wanting her to feel rushed. “I can just hold you.”

“No,” she breathed out at once. “No, I want you. I want us.”

A happy grin spread across his mouth and he raised an eyebrow, looking almost smug if she didn’t know him. He let his other fingertips join the one on her collarbone and ran them down her arm, skimming her side and tickling her ribs, until they landed on the soft skin at her waist, letting his hand fall flat and his palm spread warmth across her abdomen. 

“Soft,” he whispered, his thumb making a circle around her belly button as her fingers curled around his wrist. He paused, waiting to see her move and as always, she surprised him. A bit shy, she bit at her lip and pushed him upwards, until they were both seated on the blanket. She was grateful for the curve of the beach, ensuring they were out of view of the plane as she shrugged the blanket from around their shoulders, letting it fall to the sand.

The air between them palpitated, heavy with energy as they stared at each other, his palm still on her stomach and hers now braced on his thigh. She broke eye contact first, letting her eyes see him for the first time as hers, his shoulders, chest, strong hands at her waist. Jughead took her lead then, too, scanning her frame in the crackling firelight. 

Neither was sure how long they sat there, unmoving and just gazing at each other. When both of their eyes seemed to connect again, he was gone, covering her with his body as he pressed her down on the blanket, his mouth lingering on hers as he let his palms slide upwards, touching all of the places he had seen and needed to feel as Betty arched up into him, hooking a leg around his hips to pull him closer.

“Slow,” he reminded her as her hands gripped at his biceps. Jughead’s lips dropped to her neck and flicked at her pulse, causing Betty to erupt in goosebumps and pant out a squeak. In all of his past experiences, he wasn’t exactly shy, but he wasn’t this confident. With Betty, he felt such an unencumbered sense of credence that this moment had always been fated for them and he wanted to direct it, to make it good for her.

Betty carded her fingers through his hair, allowing the strands to slide between her fingers as she used her grip to hold him tightly to herself. His teeth reached her collarbone, nipping and soothing, making their way down her body, tasting every inch of the skin he had waited years to explore, the hollow of her bellybutton, the point of her hip bone, the soft expanse of her thigh. He was careful at her ribs, pressing soft, reverent kisses avoiding her wound. One hand had wrapped around her the calf of her leg that had been draped over his hip, letting it slide up and over his shoulder as he kissed lower down her body, taking his time until she was a beautiful wreck, gasping his name and gripping the blanket. 

“No more, Jug,” Betty rasped out, tugging on his hair. “I want it to be together our first time. Please?”

He nodded, kissing his way back up her body and twisting them both so she was above him, kneeling over his hips as he sat upon the blanket, raking his eyes over her again. She crashed their lips together, pressing her face against his as if just a bit more pressure would destroy molecular bindings and merge her skin with his own, until she felt his fingers digging into her hips, his restraint almost completely dissipating. Betty broke the kiss and pulled back just enough so they could see each other, offering an enigmatic smile as her thumb stroked his jawline.

“Your trembling,” he noted, rubbing at her sides. 

“Anticipation? Nerves?” she laughed out quietly. “It’s been a while for me.”

“Me, too,” he confessed. “Slow, okay?”

And slowly she went, exploring his shoulders and chest with her lips before steadying herself and joining them together, pausing once or twice, until they were inseparable, pressing their foreheads together as they moved in a languid, unhurried rhythm. Jughead pressed her face back just a fraction to find her eyes again, their lips touching in the barest of grazes as they moved, so close that it was undecipherable which small gasp or intake of breath belonged to whom. Their hips became more frantic, erratic in their motion until Betty, followed by Jughead, were lost in a wave of pure rapture, pressing their lips together, to overcome to even kiss.

As the moments ticked by and the last of Betty’s shudders subsided, she drew her gaze to his to find him, breathless, watching her with only complete tenderness and adoration and she smiled softly, hugging him to her tightly and pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead.

If you asked them later, neither could remember who moved first. They lay in the sand quietly trading delicate kisses and words of love under the beauty of the unfiltered blanket of stars and the warmth of their campfire, sparking brightly.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They finally got alone time! Yay! Not easy when you’re trying to survive! I hope you enjoyed! Stay tuned for the adventure that awaits with next Monday’s update!
> 
> Thanks so much to Jandy for editing and listening to me rant about how much I hate writing love scenes... seriously... it takes me days.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think the saying goes...”Calm before the storm.” Well, they had their fun so now here comes the storm.

“When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.”

-Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/192454274@N08/51010198772/in/album-72157718550812672/)

**Riyadh, Saudi Arabia**

They found solitude in a cafe far from Dirah Souk. The smell of roasting coffee beans permeated their senses as they sat, recollecting their thoughts while silently watching the green dot on Alice’s phone where it stopped. Al-Yamama Palace. The palace, and residence of the King, was an ornate, sprawling complex, home to government meetings and guests alike.

“There’s no way,” FP muttered, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his dark hair. “We were lucky to even get out of that market alive. We can’t storm a palace full of guards, clearly trained at guarding the king.”

The outlook was bleak, for sure. The grounds of the palace were enormous and a full royal guard stood watch. It was as difficult to breach as the White House and they would stick out like sore thumbs in trying to do so.

“So that’s it,” Fred shrugged, biting at his thumb as his arms crossed his chest. “That’s the end of the road then? We just leave the kids… wherever it is they are? I’m not okay with that. I’d rather get shot climbing a hedge, trying to find some answers, than go home with my tail between my legs and say, “Sorry, Mary. Things got hard so I stopped looking for Archie.”

FP Sat up straighter, immediately defensive from Fred’s outburst. “You saying that I’m a coward? That I’m letting my boy down? Because you know me, Freddie, and I-”

Alice slammed a hand down on the table, drawing their attention back to her. “Excuse me, testosterone-infused time bombs, but I’d really appreciate it if you wouldn’t detonate here, in a public cafe, where we stick out like the Amish at a car show. No one is suggesting we go home. We need to think- be strategic. We need a bargaining chip of some sorts.”

FP knocked on the table and pursed his lips, tilting his head toward the left where Hiram sat. “We could give them Hiram,” he suggested. “He’s the reason this whole mess happened in the first place. He’s the reason our kids are missing!”

Alice sighed, sagging her shoulders as she prepared to berate FP when Hiram cleared his throat.

“He’s right. This is my fault and that’s exactly what we should do. We can offer up an exchange, my life for the kids’ location.”

They were all silent as they looked around the table FP and Fred nodding at Hiram in thanks. Only Alice seemed unsatisfied with the plan.

“Or…” she offered with a shrug. “We give them something they’d want even more. If any of you were paying attention, you would have recognized that for Bühler to have them there, he had to know Elias’ contacts. Those men took him straight to the palace and I’d bet my left leg they were some of the Council of Senior Ulama, a bridge between the monarch and religion. The alcohol trade mocks their whole religious establishment here so it makes sense they would be involved. But that also means that one of them was Elias and Bühler’s inside man. That in itself would be a serious offense, one that the king may be willing to excuse our presence here to uncover.”

FP frowned and played with the handle of his coffee cup, quite aware that though Alice was intriguing, she was far out of his league. “I may be...stupid for asking this, but what is the Ulama? What do they have to do with a king?”

“The group itself is quite large- think thousands. But there is a select group who are on a Council for the king, with great political influence. They serve as a religious authority and can help weigh in on policies. Their support of public policy is quite important to the monarch and he is usually very close with the council. They hold great influence, but never meddle in politics. That’s why they are so important. To find out one of them was using the establishment to break the law would be...unimaginable.”

“So what do you suggest?” Fred asked, curiously. “We ring the bell and make an accusation? As soon as they see Hiram we’re all as good as dead anyway.”

Alice smirked, staring again at the immobile green dot on her phone. “I suggest Hiram contacts Elias’ acquaintances- his wife, or assistant. God knows he didn’t set up appointments or calls himself, those men never do. Someone else knows who he was talking to. I suggest we get a name and then ring the doorbell- only FP and I go alone.”

FP snapped his head over at her, wide-eyed and angry. “And you think I’m just going to march myself up to a palace and offer myself up for torture? They could use us to get to Hiram.”

“They could,” Alice shrugged. “But my guess is us showing up without him will make it looked like he used us, too, abandoning us here. If we have information that’s useful to him, I guarantee he will make a trade. We have no ill-business with him and the king is a religious man. He won’t cause undue harm in his palace without just cause.”

FP rubbed a tired hand over his face again and Fred flopped back in his chair. Hiram, his forehead balanced on his clenched fists, picked up his head, red-faced and worn.

“Okay,” he agreed. “It’s all we’ve got. But if we don’t get a contact, we go with plan B. You exchange me for the location of the kids.”

“I’d love nothing more,” Alice spat back venomously. “But I love Veronica and for her sake, I’ll try and save your worthless life.”

…..

**Somewhere off the coast of Chile**

It was cold.

That was the first thing Betty thought as pinpricks of light began to accost her eyes. That quickly passed as her brain moved on to its next assessment; I’m not wearing any clothes. Betty began to flood herself in images from the night before, the flick of the flames on his skin, his palm along her waist, his fingers digging into her hips. Despite the chill, she smiled to herself and snuggled back against him, earning a soft hum from Jughead as he stirred and pressed kisses to her sun-freckled shoulders.

“Morning,” he mumbled against her skin. Betty could feel the upturned curve of his lips as she smiled into the curve of her neck and she turned herself to face him, looking up at him from under her lashes. 

“Morning,” she sighed, returning the greeting, finding herself a bit shy in the daylight. “Did you sleep alright?”

Jughead barked out a laugh, dropping his hands low around her back and hauling her right up against him. “Did I sleep alright? Last night was a literal dream, Betty. One I’ve had more times than I’d care to admit. The only difference is that when I woke up you were actually here. I’ve never slept better.”

Betty rubbed at his nose with hers, dipping her head to catch his lips in a deep kiss, just as she heard a sigh- one that came from neither of them, but from outside their hut.

“God that’s- so adorable,” Veronica blubbered. “Do we have to, Archiekins? Can’t we just go and leave them in their little love bubble?”

Betty pouted at her best friend’s intrusion and Jughead groaned, pecking a kiss on the tip of her nose. He was hoping for a slow-motion replay of the night before, but he wasn’t up for spectators.

“The bubble has been popped, Veronica,” Jughead called out from inside. “What is it that you and sweet Archiekins so desperately require that you’ve interrupted our slumber?”

Veronica huffed, folding her arms over her chest as she stared him down from outside the hut. Though Jughead couldn’t see her, he could certainly still feel the sting of the Lodge glare.

“One,” Veronica called out. “I  _ know  _ you aren’t sleeping in there. Two, it seems like a storm is rolling in and we need to get water from the falls. We didn’t want to interrupt, but we can’t carry all the jugs there and back on our own.”

Betty frowned into the skin of his shoulder and pressed one last kiss there before sitting up, gathering her clothes from the night before to toss on until she could get new ones from the plane. They dressed quietly, aware their friends were outside waiting, and stepped out into the almost white-daylight, the gray of the clouds brightening the sky in an unpleasant way. After a moment of squinting, their eyes readjusted and they took in the churning sea, little white caps already topping the waves that were surely higher than normal, even during a high tide.

Archie read the concern on their faces. “Ronnie and I already added weight to the fishing bottles and reinforced the fishing structure. I’m not sure how bad it will get since we don’t really know the weather patterns here. The wind is picking up, though.”

Jughead braced one hand on his hip and wrapped the other over Betty’s shoulders, gazing out towards the horizon. “We can only hope it’s a passing storm, but you’re right. We are probably better off getting water before it hits just in case there are downed trees or too much mud to get back in the next few days. We’ll just change and we can go.”

Betty and Jughead headed back to the plane at a run, tossing on sweats and sneakers as fast as they could. It wasn’t how they had hoped their morning after would go, but life was unpredictable here and they needed to be ready to roll with the punches. Betty ran a brush through her hair, tying it up and out of her face as Jughead watched, leaning against the side of the plane.

“What?” she smiled, catching his soft grin from the corner of her eye. 

He shook his head and swayed over, wrapping his arms around her from behind. “Nothing. You just- you’re beautiful and I’m kind of still in a state of astonishment that you’re mine.”

“Get used to it,” Betty teased, kissing his chin. “I love you, Jug. That’s not going to change so stop waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

He chuckled softly and shook his head. “How did you-”

“I know you,” Betty reminded him with a quirk of her eyebrow. “If something seems too natural, or easy, or just happy, you wait for it to implode. We’re… together now. I’m not going to blow away with the winds. Now c’mon. We should go eat some unidentifiable meat before we head out, just in case things get rough later.”

By the time they emerged from the plane, the wind had picked up even more and the whitecaps were cresting all over the ocean, giving it a foamy appearance. Archie was one step ahead of them and handed each of them some meat on a stick, their bags already packed with water and other supplies.

“I don’t like the looks of this,” Archie gushed out worriedly. “We need to go quickly and get back here and into shelter as soon as we can.”

Wordlessly, they hiked out to the falls, saving their breath for oxygen as they hoofed onwards, chests heaving and protesting under their injuries. Jughead thought the worry etched on Archie’s face was insurmountable, his skin clammy and grayish as they surged forward as the thick jungle provided some solace from the fierce winds. Veronica, for her part, either didn’t notice or was choosing to turn a blind eye, unsteadily winking at Betty in hopes of gathering details about her night. 

The turn in the weather and their moods was a huge shift from the joviality of the night before when they’d danced without a care in the sand. The island itself seemed to be aware of it, charged with electricity, the leaves extra tight as they rustled in the breeze and the trees whispering warnings as they passed. Jughead’s bones felt heavy, laden with weight, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose in attention, adding a prickling feeling to his stomach that was already churning like the sea. 

No sooner had they reached the falls than the rain started to fall, first coming down in tiny delicate droplets splattering on the black rock before them, before flowing in full-sized raindrops. 

“I don’t think it’s going to stop anytime soon,” Archie proclaimed as they scampered to fill up the water jugs as fast as they could move.

Veronica pouted as she stared up at the offending sky, one scowl short of shaking her fists up in the air at the rainclouds. “Great. Do you think we should try to wait it out under the rocks? Is it just a passing shower?”

No one got a chance to answer as the skies broke open and hail the size of golf balls started plummeting down all around them. Quickly, to avoid being pummeled, they ran for cover under the rock barrier they had slept under the first night they found the falls.

The hail battered their stone sanctuary, smacking against it with a pounding sound almost equally as rough as the pounding of their hearts.

“We survive the plane crash only to almost be bludgeoned to death by balls of ice,” Betty stammered, rubbing at her chilled skin. “Just when I think I know what to expect, this island throws me a curveball. Everyone is alright though?”

The air had turned frigid from the wind blowing tiny droplets from the waterfall back against them. For warmth, they wrapped their arms around each other, Archie with Veronica and Betty with Jughead, trying to stay warm as they waited out the hail.

“I’m good,” Archie stammered, staring out at the trees while watching them blow swiftly in the wind. “Honestly, I think we made a big mistake by coming here. I thought we had more time than this. I’m sorry guys.”

Betty looked over at him sympathetically, cocking her head curiously as she took in the dazed look and awkward smile on veronica’s face. “V? Everything good?”

“I don’t have my swimsuit,” Veronica whispered out, looking puzzled by Betty’s query. Archie, who had one arm wrapped around her, the other tucked against the side of her head, pulled his hand from her raven hair, his palm slick and covered with a crimson trail of blood.

“Ronnie,” he choked out, staring at his palm.

Betty seemed to react first, crossing the distance between them and tilting her friend’s head, locating a deep gash down the side that was bleeding steadily.

Archie hunched over beside them, grimacing and cursing at his sneakers. “This is all my fault! We never should have come! I should have just let us wait it out!”

Betty had never seen him like this before- almost enraged. His face was growing redder as his aggression escalated and she recoiled in shock as he righted himself, punching the rock behind them repeatedly, his own knuckles now gushing with blood. Jughead lunged forward, pulling Archie back and wrapping his own arms through his stopping his fist-fight with the ancient stone.

“Enough!” Jughead barked. “This isn’t helping your fiance! You want to be angry? Be angry at the pilot. Be angry at Hiram. By all means, break his fucking nose and knock out his teeth when we get off this island, but right now, you need to cool it so we can take care of Veronica.”

Archie struggled against him for a moment, refusing to meet his eyes, but Jughead didn’t allow it, ducking down and forcing his friend to look at him. It was only then that Archie settled, still angry, but his aggression subsiding. Archie looked over at Betty who was all but keeping Veronica upright while assessing her wounds and jumped in, wrapping an arm around her to take the brunt of her weight.

“She has a concussion,” Betty told him regretfully. “And she’s bleeding a lot. She needs stitches for sure. My small sewing kit is in my bag, but unless one of you has a bottle with you, I don’t have anything to sterilize with.”

Archie flapped his mouth open before closing it in a tight line and Jughead shook his head negatively.

“We ran out so fast that none of us grabbed the medical bag. It must be on the plane still,” Archie lamented.

Betty quickly rummaged through her own bag, pulling out the little sewing pouch Veronica had used to stitch her up, grabbing at the needle before staring blankly at the spool in her hands, the wooden coil empty.

“It’s empty,” she whispered frantically. “I swear there was thread on here the other day…”

“I fixed my dress,” Veronica smiled sleepily against Archie’s shoulder. “Had a hole…”

Betty pursed her lips in frustration, but lashing out would do no good. Veronica was barely conscious as it was and was losing blood quickly.

Archie knelt down, taking her lax body with him as he rested her back against his chest. Jughead, who had been pacing ran a hand over his face, looking out at the jungle separating them and the plane.

“Do you have more in the medkit?” he asked Betty, looking up at the clouds rolling in.

“I do,” she stammered. “But we will never get her back there in time. We’d have to carry her.”

“What if…” Jughead began, once again looking towards the direction of the beach. “What if I run? What if I run and bring it back?”

Archie looked up at Jughead gratefully before glancing at Betty whose eyes were wet with moisture and soft in their appraisal of him. “You’d never make it in time,” she said sadly. “There’s too much blood…”

In a decision so impulsive she didn’t even stop to explain, Betty began to undress, unbuttoning and sliding off her jeans in one fluid motion as the boys watched, dumbfounded. Grabbing the needle from the kit, she braced her hand over the wound in her thigh and used the point to cut the thread where Veronica had tied it days ago. 

With a wince and a frown, Betty began to pull the stitched thread from her own skin, the wound healed enough that it was no longer necessary to keep it closed. Jughead seemed to realize her intention and hurried over, halting her hands and finishing the process for her as she leaned back against the wall and looked down at him, gratefully.

Veronica was no longer awake and Betty was both worried and pleased by that. With the thread was out, she took it to the water’s edge, soaking it and washing it as best as she could before threading the needle and settling down at Veronica’s side. She took the small pair of scissors and cut the hair near the gash away, glaring up at the boys.

“I swear if either of you tells her it was me who cut that chunk of hair off and that it wasn’t the giant ball of ice that took it out, I will slow-roast you like that llama-thing we ate last night.”

Knowing Betty always followed through on a promise, or a threat, they both emphatically agreed and Betty got to work. As she stitched, they decided on their plan.

“We need to go back,” Jughead sighed, stepping out to the edge of the rocks again to look out at the rain that was still cascading down in sheets over the jungle. The tops of the trees blew wildly, the malleable bark bending and moving the trees like hula dancers at a luau. “This wind is… serious. We need to make sure all of our supplies, especially the medical ones, don’t blow away and wash out to sea.”

Betty sighed as she tugged the thread tighter. “How is that even possible? The winds are… stirring up. It looks like a hurricane honestly. With the rain and the gusts, traveling is going to be almost impossible. Not to mention we have to carry Veronica. I’m stitching her but she’s unconscious and could even have internal bleeding. We need to be careful.”

As Betty finished the last stitch, Archie, who had been holding Veronica, lay her down carefully before standing up to pace.

“I can carry her,” he reassured them. “But Jug is right. We  _ have _ to save those supplies. You just put  _ used _ stitches in your best friend’s head, Betty. What are the odds that doesn’t get infected if we don’t clean her wound?”

Betty rolled her eyes and cursed under her breath, standing up and tossing her sewing supplies back in her bag before slinging it over her shoulders.

“Well then let’s get a move on before we get more hail or worse.”

With a sudden lurch and burp, the earth itself decided to test them, shaking wildly from deep inside its center. They were tossed against the mountain as rocks began to cascade and crash down around them.

“We have to get out of here!” Betty screamed. “I’m not sure if it’s an avalanche or an earthquake or both!”

Archie lifted Veronica, carefully, and they made for the cover of the trees as fast as their feet could carry them. The rains were becoming torrential and the gusts of wind squally and wild as the earth continued to rain rubble down around them, the mountain crumbling from the top down. Their well-worn path was more laborious than even the first time they crossed it, the horde of cockroaches they had come to an understanding with now hidden underground. 

In an instant, the rain became so dense, like that of a monsoon, and Veronica stirred in Archie’s arms, turning her head to wretch a bit from the double vision.

“Archie?” she called weakly. “What’s going on?”

“You have a head injury, Ronnie,” Archie yelled over the rain. “We’re trying to make it back to the beach. Just relax. I’ve got-”

Archie stopped short as a deep, reverberating rumbling sound echoed around them and he watched Betty, fifteen yards ahead, stoop from her five-foot-six frame down to five-two in an instant.

“Jug!” her voice wailed, carried away on the whim of the wind. “Oh God, I’m sinking!”

From the side of the trees, a constant stream of thick mud mixed with rock and debris flowed, covering their pathway in its dense, goopy soup. Betty was caught up in the rush and it swarmed her legs immediately, weighing her down as it began to overwhelm her. The mud was heavy and laden, like wet concrete and it anchored her down. The flow grew stronger by the minute as the relentless rain propelled it onward, the swirling sludge picking up more debris as it ran.

“Betty!” Jughead howled as he searched for her, Betty’s form partially obscured by the raging droplets that were being blown in on a slant, creating a blinding blurry curtain. A clangorous crack broke through the hum of the rain as the wind snapped a tree trunk from its roots, sending it spiraling into others in a battering ram effect, the tall timbers crashing down like dominoes and sliding their way down the flowing mud.

The slick, wet soil became too much and Betty’s body crashed down into it. Her mind was swiftly taken back to the night of the crash, the ocean water overwhelming her and invading her lungs, as the mud tried to do now, pressing her deeper and deeper into its grasp. But she had an accord with the ocean, not the land, and the mud was less forgiving, swallowing her in one voracious gulp.

“Betty!” Jughead roared, chasing the flow, running parallel to the stream. “Betty!”

A bob of blonde permeated the blanket of brown and without second thought Jughead rushed in, using a fallen tree to keep himself above the stream. As he closed in, he fastened his hands under her arms, summoning every bit of strength he had to hoist her from the gulping suction of the mud, his body battered left and right from passing debris.

“Juggie!” she gasped as his fingers cut tiny punctures into her skin, gripping her with a ferocious brawn as she latched herself over the trunk at his side, Jughead’s arms hovering around her to hold up her body, weak from the struggle.

“Betts,” he said frantically, turning her head to examine her face, mud-covered and battered. “Can you breathe alright? Are you okay?”

Betty lay into his touch, resting against his palm. “You got me in time, Jug. I knew you would.”

The tree trunk they were settled on stopped abruptly, knocking the wind from them as it collided with others, the mud still flowing beneath them. Archie had run alongside them, Veronica leaning against his side, still woozy but conscious. 

“Climb across the trees, guys!” Archie yelled as the rain pelted them. “Now! Before they break free!”

Betty nodded at Jughead and he went first, climbing across nature’s obstacle course with her on his heels, the trunks clashing and moving through the flow. Jughead reached solid land first and pulled Betty from the tree, wrapping her fiercely in his arms while pressing kisses over every inch of her face.

“Did you inhale any of that? Did you Betty?” he cried fearfully against her skin, seemingly unable to stop himself from kissing her while simultaneously examining every inch of her skin for injuries.

“I don’t- I don’t think so,” she panted out, both relieved and still fearful.

“C’mon!” Archie yelled, waving them onward. “We need to get out of here!”

Jughead glared at his best friend brutally, unwilling to let Betty go just yet. “Give us a minute!”

“We don’t have a minute!” Archie spat back. “Look at the trajectory of that mudslide! It’s going straight down our path which means it’s headed straight for-”

“...the plane,” Jughead finished, eyes wide as the full moon. “All of the supplies!”

They took off at a sprint, the unsteady ground, heavy rains and winds, and lack of path leaving their return trip much more hazardous than before. The collapsing rock and raging waters had eroded soil and lifted tree roots and the giants toppled, creating a maze they fought their way through. Betty had taken over supporting Veronica as the boys charged forward, pressing through the thick foliage, and headed towards the shore, which was another nightmare in itself.

The mudslide had oozed its way through the trees and they had followed alongside, parallel. The forest became thin and minutes later they saw open sand and a nightmare of epic proportions. Ten-foot waves battered the shore, reaching the tree line with their wake, dragging sand and trees back into its hungry mouth like souls into the depths of hell. Skidding to a stop, they searched frantically for the plane, the metal hull sliding as the waves wrapped it in their grip and the wildly flowing mud helped it along.

“Damnit!” Archie yelled, pounding on a tree trunk. “Everything is there! Medicine, cleaning supplies, clothing…”

Betty’s free hand covered her mouth while the other supported Veronica as she took in the absolute carnage before her. Their huts had been swept out to sea as well and the plane was submerging quickly. She helped Veronica sit, her head pounding and stomach churning.

“Archie,” Jughead panted. “The drop-off from the shore here is sudden and deep. The plane is going to be swallowed up in minutes.” He paused again and gulped down a wad of bile that had risen in his throat. “How well can you swim?”

Archie nodded, hard, and began to take off his clothing, Jughead doing the same, as Betty blanched at the pair of them. 

“You can’t possibly be serious!” she yelled. 

“We need those supplies to survive, Betty,” Jughead reasoned, slipping out of his jeans.

“It’s a suicide mission!” she screamed, grabbing at his shoulders and begging him with her eyes not to go. “You won’t need supplies because you’ll be dead! You and Archie, both! Think this through!”

“We are!” Archie countered, waving an emphatic arm out at the storm. “How long, Betty? How long do you think we’ll make it without that med kit? We won’t last another week with the way things have been going. We might not anyway!”

Betty gasped out a cry and pressed her lips thin, nostrils flaring as she stared at them angrily.

“We’ve made it this long,” she pleaded. “Ronnie, back me up.”

Veronica stared blankly out at the sight before them, less from the concussion and more in shock. She truly thought they would be okay. “I thought we’d be fine,” she murmured softly. “Lodge luck. I’m always fine…”

“Betty,” Jughead said softly, wrapping a tight hand behind her head and pulling her forehead to his own. “We’re already on borrowed time here. We have been all along. I have to try and buy us some more.”

Betty’s lips trembled as she tried to hold back her tears. “So that’s it then? You’re going to rush out into the sea? Go valiantly and heroic?”

“Something like that,” he chuckled, humorlessly. “But I’m not going anywhere. I’m coming back to you. I’m coming back for us.”

In a frenzy, Betty clutched at his back, sliding her forehead from his and kissing him hungrily, allowing seven years of want to pour out into what might be their last moments together.

“Don’t die on me, alright?” she whispered tearfully against his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. So much,” he promised, kissing her once more for good measure as Archie pressed a kiss to the side of Veronica’s head, still stunned and staring catatonically at the storm.

And then they were gone, racing forward into the swell and towards the surging waves where the plane teetered, sawing back and forth with each flick and whim of the sea.

**…..**

**Saudi Arabia**

Hiram heard the dial tone for the fourth time in a row. He had called Elias’ secretary for over two hours from the coil-corded phone in the dingy hotel room they had paid cash for, sitting on the edge of the musty bedspread that was covered in flowers and scrolls. There was no answer. Instead, he moved onto Elias’ widow, Amelie. She had answered on the first try.

“Hello?” she had spoken as she answered the call.

“Mrs. Muller?” he began.

“This is she. May I ask who is calling?”

“Mrs. Muller, my name is Hiram Lodge and-”

Click.

This pattern repeated three more times before he slammed down the receiver, cursing at the outdated device. 

“She likes you just about as much as we do,” FP grinned, laying back on the bedspread, rubbing his eyes. “What now?”

“Give me the phone,” Alice sighed.

Hiram looked over at her, confused, and Alice widened her eyes and stuck out her hand expectantly, annoyed with his lack of savvy in this matter.

“Honest to goodness, I’m not sure what you men would do if I wasn’t here to plan and plot for you. You’re all completely hopeless.”

Alice grabbed the receiver from Hiram and hit redial, exhaling a deep breath as Amelie answered.

“Mr. Lodge, please stop-”

“Hello?” Alice breathed hopefully into the phone. “Mrs. Muller?”

“Who is this?” she asked warily.

“Someone who also hates Hiram Lodge,” Alice said, her words of complete truth. 

“Goodbye-”

“I’m a mother!” Alice shouted out as the last hope. “I’m a mother and my daughter is missing- attacked like your husband  _ because  _ of Hiram Lodge. Please don’t hang up on me. You are my actual last hope at finding her.”

There was silence on the line for a full minute. There was the buzz of open-air so Alice knew she hadn’t hung up. The only sound she could hear was that of her own harrowed breathing. 

“I’m sorry,” Amelie finally spoke. “Losing my husband is… unimaginable. But a child… What happened?”

“She was traveling with Hiram’s daughter and their plane was attacked. We haven’t been able to track it, but we might be able to make a deal with someone who can if you can help us.”

Amelie issued another round of radio silence as she read between the lines in Alice’s words. Helping Alice would help Hiram.

“If I help you,” Amelie reasoned. “I’m helping  _ him _ .”

Alice swallowed audibly, her voice shaking with thick tears. “I understand,” she warbled. “But his daughter is a  _ good  _ person. I’ve known her since she was a child. She does charity work and is engaged. Her fiancé was on the flight as well. He works construction along with his best friend who is missing as well. My daughter is a journalist, one who is always seeking truth and justice. They are  _ nothing  _ like him. I’m asking you, mother to mother, please, help me.”

Alice heard tears from the other side of the line and wasn’t sure if Amelie’s resolve was wavering or if she felt bad she was about to deny Alice the possibility of her daughter's safe return. She didn’t have to wait long to find out.

“What do you need?”

…..

**Somewhere off the coast of Chile**

Taking off through the knee-deep water, Archie and a Jughead were immediately bombarded by the rough surf, ten-foot waves battering them head-on with incredible force. They jumped with the smaller ones at first, but as the water deepened, the waves also grew in size, knocking them backward at every step. Though they were in a tropical summer, the coast was cold, chilled from the storm and the water from the Humboldt Current, the sixty-degree water traveling up from Antarctica.

To his left, Jughead could see Archie struggling, gripping the bandages as his side as the waves overpowered him, tossing him head-over-foot and tumbling him back towards the flooded shore.

“Archie!” Jughead yelled, only satisfied once he was the tangle of red hair re-emerge and right itself back twenty feet. It was clear Archie didn’t have the stamina to fight the waves and Jughead gritted his teeth, turning back towards the plane before diving head-first into the approaching surge.

Coughing and spluttering, Archie crawled back over to the trees where Veronica, who had gained a bit more functioning, grabbed at his shoulders hugging him tightly while Betty bit at her knuckles, looking for any sign of Jughead in the waves.

“I can’t see him,” she cried out trepidatiously. “I can’t-”

“There!”! Archie yelled, pointing to a small, tanned speck, floating on the crest of a wave. His whitecapped foaming foe allowed him to believe he had bested it for just a moment before he was thrown forward, his body slamming into the side of the plane with a hard impact.

“Jughead!” Betty screamed, leaping from the tree line to run out into the water before Archie grabbed at her waist, tugging her back into the trees. “No! He needs me! Let me go!”

From the corner of her eye, Betty caught his sight, shaking and breathing jaggedly as he pulled himself up and into the plane, holding his side as he did so. 

“He made it,” Archie shuddered, finally releasing Betty. “He made it.”

Inside the plane, Jughead searched frantically for what they would need. The alcohol bottles they had been using to sterilize their wounds were all smashed and useless, but the first aid kit was intact. He grabbed the kit and some of the other small tools that would possibly come in handy as he felt the plane shifting beneath him, teetering on the edge of the drop-off

The plane would sink. It would sink at any moment and if he was inside or too close, the force would suck him down with it. Holding the kit tight to his chest, Jughead ran to the plane’s opening, finding Betty’s eyes as she watched from the shoreline, only to have the ground yanked out from under him as the plane tipped downward and began to fill with water, tossing Jughead head-first into a massive incoming wave.

This time Archie couldn’t stop her. Betty ran out into the now waist-high water covering the beach and continued onward, searching left and right for any sign of him.

“Jughead!” she yelled, as the waves slapped the side of her face with their cold laughter. “Please!” she called to the ocean. “Give him back to me! I thought we had an understanding! An agreement! I need him!”

“Betty!” Archie called out through the raging rains, pointing a few yards to her left where a dark-haired mass bobbed, face down in the wake.

“J-Juggie,” Betty choked, posing her way through the water as it clobbered her small form. Her lungs burned and her ribs ached, but she didn’t stop, not until her arms were under his, turning him over and dragging him back up to the trees. His skin was cold and his chest was still. Betty lay her ear upon his chest and warbled out a cry when she heard no breath sounds.

“No!” she sobbed against his chest. “You don’t get to do this! You don’t get to leave me today! Archie, compressions!”

He nodded back as Betty dipped her head down to his lips, blowing literal life into his lungs with her own as Archie kept his heart pumping, pressing at his chest repeatedly.

“Come on, Juggie,” Betty whimpered between breaths. “You’re supposed to be my forever, Jug.”

She pressed her lips to his again, blowing oxygen in until suddenly he spluttered. Betty turned his head as he coughed out water, shivering while he wretched. Betty helped him into a seated position, resting his head against her chest as she kissed at his hair, his face, his shoulders, anywhere she could reach. Jughead, panting, wrapped his arms loosely around her waist, the first aid kit still clutched in his left hand.

The waves behind them grew, the winds still yet picking up speed and Archie nudged Betty’s shoulder.

“This spot will be underwater soon. We need to head back inland. Maybe back towards the falls.”

With a shaky nod, Betty stood, helping Jughead as well until Archie could get a better grip on him, hobbling their way back into the brush and away from their seaside home.

…..

They made it back to the falls, though it took twice as long as their normal trip there. The tremors from earlier seemed isolated and they decided it must have been a landslide, triggered by the sudden and intense rain, which then created the mudslide that had swarmed them. They had been prepared to stitch wounds and eat reptiles, but nothing had prepared them for this. Today had provided them all with the one truth they had dared not speak.

They could not survive here.

With the kit retrieved, Betty had put some antiseptic on Veronica’s wounds, satisfied with the stitches from earlier and how they were holding. Afterward, her friend had settled down against Archie’s chest, Archie exhausted and asleep on the ground under their dry hiding space.

Jughead’s breathing was still a bit labored, but overall he was recovering well, some color returning to his cheeks.

“If you weren’t so weak I’d smack you right now,” Betty warned him as she sat by his side, laying her head on his shoulder. Jughead attempted a laugh that came out more like a cough and wrapped his hand around her knee, squeezing lightly.

“I’m sorry,” he shrugged. “I know it was stupid, but we needed that medkit, Betty. I’m not an idiot. We can’t survive here long term. We can only hold out hope that someone passes by and rescues us. But we needed those supplies to buy us time.”

“And what if you’d drowned?” Betty mumbled against his shoulder. “Would it have been worth it then?”

Jughead turned towards her, his eyes somber and serious as he tilted her chin up to look at him. “And what if you were hurt and I had  _ nothing  _ to try and save you with. What if I had to watch you die? Maybe slowly, maybe quickly. That’s all I could think about, Betty. That’s why it was worth it.”

He kissed her then, hard and brimming with every emotion he couldn’t explain, Betty cried exhausted tears against his already salty lips as she shook with the let down from the inertia of it all.

“It’s alright,” he muttered, kissing her again, this time more softly as his lips tasted her salty tears cascading down between them. “I’m alive. We’re all still here, Betts.”

“Promise me,” Betty whimpered, kissing his lips, his nose, his cheeks frantically. “Promise me you won’t ever do something that rash again. Promise me, now.”

“I promise,” Jughead sighed, his eyes searching for hers. “I promise.”

He tucked her against his chest, his chin resting atop her head as they listened to the rainfall on the stream and the rock overhead.

Betty had always liked the sound of rain, the droplets and little “pat pats” it made against her windows reminding her of summer nights and clean slates. Now the rain seemed like a warning, a thundering reminder that they were just players in mother nature’s playground and she called the shots and made the moves. Now rain sounded dangerous, like a warning. The rain was no longer safe. They weren’t safe. 

Betty repeated that to herself as she fell asleep against Jughead’s chest, Mother Nature still exuding her force all around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only three more chapters to go! I hope you’re as excited to find out what happens as I am to share it!
> 
> Thanks and love to Jandy for the edits and support!!!


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